


Doomsday

by ThroneofMist



Series: History is Dead and Gone [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: But you can skip it, Character Death, Gen, Minecraft IRL, Remember when I said ‘angst kinda’ lmao how the turn tables, There is graphic language of violence just a warning, There’s smut in chapter five, Tommy be like: must stab, Wil and Tommy's friendship is so cute, angst kinda, can't believe its come to this, communication issues???? couldn't be me, im fucking sorry ok but it's coming it has to, it doesn’t add much to the plot :), people do get shanked and shot, protective dream go brbrbr, sap is a pyro what can I say, the war was like a film istg, war time bb, writing about block men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:39:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 47,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25866049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThroneofMist/pseuds/ThroneofMist
Summary: “Deal.”“Okay,” Dream nodded, clicking his tongue. Will’s breathing flared as he watched the two shake hands. Tommy’s hand looked impossibly small in Dream’s. Pale, soft fingers against lean, scarred ones.“Tomorrow at sundown.”Aka: it's time to write about block-men fighting in a game way too seriously and intensely lmfao aka the SMP war
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: History is Dead and Gone [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937527
Comments: 306
Kudos: 1185





	1. Shots Fired, Back to the Future

Tommy aimlessly picked at his frayed sleeves, back against the crumbling walls of the fallen embassy. The smell of blood was thick in the air. It was choking him, suffocating him as he ran tired hands down across his face, rubbing his eyes.

His throat had felt tight for days now, as if Dream’s hold on him was now permanently etched into his mind. Eyes slowly wandering over to ruined cobblestone shed in the distance, Tommy brought his legs to his chest. Wrapping his arms around himself, he dropped his head onto his knees, letting the vague smell of smoke and death wash over him.

This was the first battle they’d lost, and somewhere deep down, Tommy knew it wouldn’t be the last. Fear, guilt and spitting anger unfurled in his gut as he sat in the ruins of his old home. None of this was fair. A sudden growl slipped from his mouth, dripping in wrath. Tommy hadn’t even realised he’d moved until blood slowly dripped down his cracked fist, staining his uniform. He blinked down at it, the pain hitting him with a delay.

He hissed through his teeth as he cradled his fist in his other hand. Glancing up at the now bloodstained wall, Tommy found it in himself to slowly move, feet dragging instinctively. The night air hit him harshly as he stepped out into the open, and he shuddered slightly in his coat. It was normally fine at keeping the icy air at bay, but now it was slashed and ripped, and the cold wouldn't stop biting at Tommy's skin.

He swayed on his feet lightly, the sudden movement making him feel a little dizzy. He blinked a couple times, hands at his sides as he tried to regain balance. When the world stopped tilting and the dark purple spots disappeared from his vision, Tommy was met with a sight that made his heart clench.

The once calm and untouched landscape was now a painting of destruction. He slowly picked his way through the land now lost to war, dodging craters in the ground as he went. He stopped when he came to the shed the lost man had built for him. Tracing the cobblestone walls with his fingers, a whisper of a smile danced over Tommy’s lips. But then his eyes dropped, and he saw the pool of blood. The pool of blood he was currently standing in.

Leaping back with a yelp, Tommy tripped, eyes widening in shock. He met the ground with a sickening thud, barking out. But the ache from falling was pushed away as he raised his hands, horrified at the sight of them.

They were completely dripping in muddy blood, as if a child had drawn all over them in crayon. Tears clung to Tommy’s jaw as he scrambled away in panic, desperately trying to get away from the blood on the ground. Frantically rubbing his hands against his clothes, he had to bite back down the bile that threatened to rise in his throat.

He didn’t even know who’s blood it was.

No one had been too gravely injured in the fight, the main casualty being Tommy’s home. The embassy. It could be anyone’s.

Eret had been shot badly.

_Knees buckling from below the man. Hitting the ground with a thud. Gasping down in surprise at the arrow slicing through his arm, flesh hanging off as blood seeped through his shirt. Glasses falling from his face as he fell, Tubbo managing to catch him before he cracked his head open on the rocks below._

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, pushing his palms into his face as he desperately tried to wipe the image from his mind. Eret would be alright. Wilbur had said he was going to be fine. He’d said it repeatedly, each time seemingly less and less convinced. Tommy hadn’t known who the older man was trying to convince. Eret himself was passed out on the table in the van, head lolling to the side. Fundy was too busy trying to sew up his arm, seemingly undisturbed by the fact Eret’s arm looked more like a slab of meat than an arm. Tubbo had been throwing his guts up outside. And Tommy had just stood there, completely useless. As always.

Eyes still shut, he took a shaky breath in, dropping onto his back. He cringed as his muscles barked in protest, pain shooting through his back and still throbbing in his fist. As he concentrated on his breathing, Tommy heard a warning in his head, the voice sounding suspiciously like Wilbur’s.

_It’s dangerous out here, Tommy. We can’t leave the walls, you know this._

Tommy just rolled his eyes. _Dangerous_. If Dream wanted to shoot him down in the middle of the night, he was welcome to it. Tommy bit the inside of his cheek as he realised, he wasn’t even being sarcastic anymore. He didn't know if he even cared about dying now. Before he could dwell more on what that meant, he heard the voice again.

 _Tommy_.

And then there was a sharp kick to his side. Hissing in annoyance, Tommy’s eyes flashed open. Blue eyes clashed against dark brown ones. Oh. So, it hadn’t just been a voice in his head. Tommy’s throat bobbed as he sat up, unable to get any words out.

“What the hell are you doing, Tommy?” Wilbur asked, sheathing his sword at his side. “I’ve been looking for you for hours now,” he sighed, fingers clenching tight around the torch burning dimly in his left hand. He sounded as tired as he looked, bags under his eyes so dark they looked almost tattooed on.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Tommy breathed, hating how broken he sounded. Wilbur’s cast of ire dissolved at his shuddering words, quickly replaced with a worried one. The older man hummed, nodding his head before he sat down beside Tommy, legs in a basket.

Tommy arched an eyebrow in question, surprised at Wilbur’s lack of resistance. But Wilbur didn’t say anything, just tapped his fingers rhythmically against his long legs as he looked out towards the horizon, the featureless sky casting shadows across his lean face.

“This was my home,” Tommy finally says, the silence eating away at him. He never liked silence. He could never push away the urge to fill the quiet void by rambling. Wilbur glanced at him before he nodded again. “They took that away from me,” Tommy spat, eyes darting to the spot where Dream had lit the first tnt.

_“Let’s just disable this,” Tommy pleaded, wrestling against Sapnap as he held the young blonde against his chest, dagger digging into his pale, lean throat. Dream tilited his head at him, his antagonistic grin leering at Tommy. But that just spurred him on, and he managed to slip his arm out of Sapnap’s hold quickly, reaching out towards the explosive. A nervous laugh escaped him as his fingers brushed the red material. He was so close to-_

_His arm was roughly yanked back, and Tommy bit back a yelp of pain. Eret snarled from beside him, making to help, but froze when George knocked back an arrow, shaking his head slowly. Eret gingerly paused, scowling at George, who's own face remained stony and unmoving._

_“Don’t touch our tnt,” Sapnap whispered into Tommy's ear, breath hot against his skin. The threat was evident and Tommy could practically hear the grin in his voice. A frustrated snarl ripped through him, and he leaned forward towards Dream, as close as he could get without Sapnap slitting his throat right there and then. “You’re in the wrong here!” Tommy yelled; voice painted in wrath. “Why can’t you see that?”_

_Dream cocked his head, and even with the mask, Tommy could see him poke his tongue into his cheek. He was considering it. Tommy’s heart leapt up in hope, and he stopped struggling against Sapnap’s tight hold. A toothy grin broke out across his face as he watched Dream nod towards George. This was it! They were going to step down. They were going to leave L’Manburg alone. They would have independence. Wilbur would be so-_

_“No!” The words left Tommy’s lips as he watched George turn, the arrow no longer pointing at Eret, but the tnt. George's shirt blew in the wind as his fingers tightened around the bow, lips pressed into a fine line as his dark eyes shot towards Dream._

_“Please,” Tommy begged, throat constricting in horror. He swore George hesitated for a split moment, but he must’ve imagined it, because the arrow was suddenly whirring through the air, hitting the explosive with a hiss._

_Sapnap let go of Tommy as explosives rung out, dirt and rock spraying everywhere. Tommy fell to the ground as he watched his home fall into nothingness beneath his own knees. It was gone. It was all gone._

_“You have until tomorrow.” Dream’s voice sounded, and Tommy looked up to see Dream standing on the other side of the ravine that had split the hill in half. Split his home in half. Sapnap and George now stood behind Dream, the former’s eyes bright in sadistic glee, the latter’s brows lowered as his bow stayed raised. Arrow aimed right at Tommy's heart._

_“You can blow up my home all you want,” Tommy yelled back, voice carrying across as he pushed himself up to his feet. He ignored the ringing in his ear, digging his fingers into his palms as he stood tall. “But listen to me Dream,” Tommy ordered, a grin spreading across his face as Eret came up beside him, sword swinging in his hands. He wasn’t alone on this. He had his brothers. He had L’Manburg. And he had the one thing Dream didn’t._

_“I have the discs,” Tommy spat, courage burning in his heart as he felt Eret place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Silence coated the air for a moment, and Tommy watched as Dream nodded slowly. Then he clicked his tongue, the sound ringing like a shotgun. And then he shrugged, and Tommy watched in confusion as he casually tossed something to the side._

_And then the ground beside the cobble shed split open, and Tommy’s barks of protest were drowned out by the sound of destruction. “The Embassy has fallen.” Dream’s deep voice echoed around the area, and all Tommy could do was shake his head in denial. He watched as Dream dropped another explosive. But this time Tommy wasn’t worried about the shed. “No, wait-” he started, eyes wide as he spotted Tubbo too close to the shed. What was he doing here?_

_But Dream didn’t wait, and Tommy watched in horror as his best friend flew backwards, the impact roughly shoving him through the air. A moment passed, and Tommy felt his heart screaming desperately against his chest. And then he might have been actually screaming, fingers digging into the ground beneath him._

_Panic broke out as realisation slammed into everyone like a brick wall. Eret let out a roar, sprinting towards the enemies with a raised sword, ready to attack. He leapt over the holes in the ground, racing towards Dream and his team. A condescending chuckle left Dream’s mouth as he merely stepped out of Eret's way, the sword slicing through the air as Dream wheezed. Before he could even turn towards Dream again, Sapnap was on Eret, diamond sword glinting in the sun._

_Tommy stayed exactly where he was, eyes glued to the spot where his friend had met the ground. He didn’t dare move, holding his breath as he stared at his friend’s unmoving body. He was losing his fucking mind. But then Tubbo rose, pushing himself up on shaky arms. A sigh of relief escaped Tommy’s lips as he watched Tubbo drag himself over to try and help Eret, who was still fighting Sapnap._

_But then a whistle sounded, and Sapnap smoothly fell out of the fight, dodging Eret's attacks as he stalked over to Dream. Like a dog bounding over to his master. He shot Eret a glare, clearly vexed he couldn’t finish his fight. But he followed Dream like the loyal soldier he was, the two of them heading towards Tommy. Their soft footsteps against the wooden footbridge were like an omen of death._

_“You have until tomorrow, Tommy,” Dream said when they reached Tommy, tone calm and even._ _He slung his tanned hands into his jean pockets, head tilted up. How was he so nonchalant? Why did none of this bother him?_

_“You fucked up,” Tommy barked out, shaking his head in disbelief. Dream just sighed, sharing a look with Sapnap as the two of them looked down at the short boy who was trembling with rage._

_“If you have not surrendered to us, L’Manburg will fall,” Dream tried again, voice now strained. Tommy just shot him a shit-eating grin. He may not be a great soldier like Eret, or a cunning and honorable leader like Wilbur. But he sure could push people’s buttons. And in his opinion, that was a great strategy to win a war. “Understand?” Dream asked, running a tongue over his teeth._

_“Dream,” Tommy started, glancing down at his ruined boots. “I understand. Nothing!” he added, voice rising to a yell as he jabbed his finger towards Dream and Sapnap. The taller man just shook his head before he turned on his heels, stalking back towards George, who now had his quiver aimed at Tubbo and Eret._

_“Why would you destroy the shed?” Tommy kept yelling, his anger fueling him as he watched the two walk away. Dream had banished Jschlatt, and that shed was the only fucking thing Tommy had had left of the man. And now it was gone._ _Dream took it from him. Just like he takes everything he wants._

_He could have kept going for hours, his hatred for Dream able to keep him going, but the words fell from his lips as he watched Dream nod to George as he walked past, disappearing into the woods with Sapnap at his heels._

_“He was the Master of Comedy,” Tommy protested. “You don’t even…” he trailed off as he watched George's lean fingers let go, the arrow hitting Eret right in the arm. The archer didn’t speak, just merely dropped the quiver to his side before he followed his friends, the trees swallowing him up._

_Glasses fallen, Tommy watched as Eret’s eyes fluttered shut._

_It was all his fault._

“Your home doesn’t have to be a place, Tommy.” Wilbur’s lilting voice dragged him out of his reverie. “Home is a feeling.” Tommy nodded slowly, sighing as the older man wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulder. “L’Manburg will always be a home for you,” he said as he felt the younger boy shiver, from fear or the chill, he didn't know.

“I thought it didn’t have to be a place,” Tommy pointed out, shooting Wilbur a snarky half-glance.

“I wasn’t talking about the walls,” Wilbur said, voice soft as the slight wind pushed at his dark curls. “I was talking about _us_.”

“Us,” Tommy repeated tentatively, biting his bottom lip as he gazed out towards the dark walls of L’Manburg, eyes glassy. Wilbur glanced down at the teenager, eyes widening when he noticed his split knuckles, blood caked into the crevices of his fist. He didn't say anything, trying his best not to spook the boy, but when he reached down, brushing his own fingers over Tommy's hand, the kid winced in pain. Wilbur desperately wanted to drag him back into L'Manburg, to bandage up his hand and order him to at least try and sleep. But that wasn't how Tommy worked. And while Wilbur understood that, it didn't stop it from hurting when he couldn't help.

“You know it’s going to be okay, right?” Wilbur said after a couple minutes of silence. Tommy just nodded, keeping his lips pressed together. He would never say, but Wilbur’s voice sounded an awful lot like when he was saying Eret would be just fine. As they watched their friend, their brother bleed out in their van.

Everything was going to be okay.


	2. Upon Pillars of Salt and Pillars of Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There are not more than five primary colours, yet in combination they produce more hues than can ever been seen.”   
> ― Sun Tzu, The Art of War
> 
> George misses how the pale yellow eyes made him feel before they were stained in blood.

He had fallen in love with a God.

Someone otherworldly, that could somehow anticipate everyone’s move before they’d even considered it. Someone ethereal, who’s sword was more like an extension of his soul rather than a mere weapon. Someone wraithlike, who seemed completely unfazed by the blood that matted his blonde waves. Someone who almost seemed to relish in the blood. In the fear that painted their enemies’ eyes. In the way the bodies fell around like dominoes, landing right at his feet. Staring up, eyes glassy, as the last thing they saw was that white mask, smiling face one last jeer.

George’s throat bobbed as the training dummy splintered in half, falling at Dream’s feet. His body stilled when the blonde man glanced over his shoulder towards the house, and even though the mask was firmly on, George could feel Dream’s sharp gaze on him. Dream was sparring outside, like he did every night. His hoodie was hanging up on the branches of a oak tree, sleeves moving in the slight wind. George didn't understand how Dream wasn't cold, standing there in his cuffed jeans and loose white shirt. 

The younger man watched him from inside, leaning the blade against his chest as George stood, hands clenching the rim of the kitchen sink. Dream cocked his head before he turned back to the training dummy, sword suddenly humming through the air again. How did he do that so fast? George let loose a short breath. “What are you doing?”

George flinched at the sound of Sapnap’s teasing voice, head snapping towards him. “I was…nothing,” he trailed off, turning to meet his friend’s grinning face. “What are _you_ doing?” he questioned, arms folded as he arched an eyebrow at the sword slung at Sapnap’s side. The white headband Sapnap kept for fighting was knotted around his head, dark hair springing up in tufts. And while he wasn't wearing his armour, he was clearly dressed ready for a fight, clean white shirt loosely tucked into his trousers. Sapnap didn't look as tired as George knew he did, the younger man not finding it hard to sleep despite the ongoing war. He actually looked unbearably fresh, jaw cleanly shaven and eyes bright and wide. 

“Going out,” Sapnap shrugged, annoyingly vague as he leaned around George to grab a fistful of steak. George made a sound of protest, elbowing the taller man away from the food. “But I made dinner,” he pointed out, blinking up at Sapnap, only realising how pathetic he sounded after the words had already left his mouth.

“You know we’re in the middle of a war, right?” Sapnap asked as he narrowed his dark eyes, passing the hot steaks from palm to palm as he crinkled his nose at the heat. George rolled his eyes, ignoring the continually growing pit in his stomach as he snatched the food out of his friend’s hands.

“I know,” he mumbled as he lay the meat on a piece of butcher paper, quickly folding it up. He handed the neat package back to Sapnap, who shot him a toothy smile before roughly shoving the food into his satchel. George bit back a wince as he watched the paper tear slightly. “What? You're not going to tell me where you’re going?” George asked, incredulous, when Sapnap made to leave.

“Do you really want to know?” his friend asked him, all the normal amusement from his voice gone. George’s throat bobbed as he leaned against the kitchen counter, the burning torches casting orange shadows dancing across his lean face. He heard the warning in Sapnap’s voice, saw the silent challenge as his friend widened his eyes at him. And he didn’t back down.

“Would I ask if I didn’t?” he hissed back through his teeth. Sap sighed, shrugging as if to say, _okay, so we’re doing this now_.

“George, I’m not a fucking idiot. I see the way you hesitate. Every time.” George’s heart leapt into his throat, panic seizing him. But before he could try and weakly object, to deny and state that he never hesitates, that he sends the arrow whirring every time, Sap placed a hand on his shoulder. “You need to get yourself together, man,” he said, southern drawl soft. “Before he notices,” he added, and the two of them glanced outside, watching as Dream sparred with himself, sword flashing in the moonlight. "I don't know if he genuinely is too concerned with L'Manberg to realise or if he's ignoring it because..." Sapnap cut himself off early as they looked away from Dream, but the unsaid words hung in the air. _Because if he realised you weren't fully on his side, it would destroy him._

“I…” George shook his head, hands clutching his hair tightly. “You don’t think this has all gotten a little out of hand? I mean, do you really want to do this, Sap? Wil, Tommy, they’re our friends.”

“ _Were_ ,” Sapnap corrected, voice sharp and face darkening at the mere mention of the men. “And they started this, George. They shouldn’t have tried to assume power if they couldn’t handle it.” George made a strained sound at that, eyes wide as he looked up at Sapnap like he couldn’t quite recognise his friend.

“Tommy and Tubbo are just kids,” he tried again, heart racing as Sap shook his head, clearly annoyed at George’s words. “If you want to defend them so much,” Sapnap snarled, stalking away from the smaller man. George couldn’t do anything but watch as he walked through the kitchen, steps heavy against the wooden floor. “Go join their pathetic little army. I’m glad I found out _now_ that you’re so willing to betray us, George. Look, I know we haven’t always gotten along, but Dream? You’re just going to leave him?”

“ _Sapnap_ ,” George started, voice bordering on pleading as he rushed after him, gripping at his friend’s arm. He bit the inside of his cheek when he found himself going to gaze outside, the mere mention of Dream threatening to send him spiralling.

Sapnap just shrugged him off, fingers dancing down to his sword, pausing on the hilt. “I’m not leaving you,” George said, voice wiry. “I’m not joining L’Manberg. I’d never leave you and Dream. Sometimes I just…” George let out a frustrated sigh, his thoughts moving too quickly for his brain to comprehend. “I’m never going to _leave_ ,” he settled on, voice firm.

Sapnap paused in the doorway, slowly turning back to meet George’s dark eyes. “Alright?” The British man asked, voice wavering slightly as he took a step closer towards Sapnap. “Alright,” Sapnap nodded gently, hand falling from his sword to his side. George nodded too, chest falling as the uneasiness in the air seemed to dissipate.

“You haven’t told me where you’re going yet,” he called when Sapnap turned to leave, disappearing from the room. He stayed standing in the middle of the kitchen, watching as the shadows from the torches leapt across the walls.

“I’ll tell you when I get back,” he called back, voice light and airy again before George heard the front door fall into place, locking behind Sapnap. George didn’t move for a moment, before he sighed, and dragged himself back into the kitchen. He dropped down at the table, tiredness slamming violently into him. Biting his bottom lip, he peeked out the window one last time, sighing lightly when he was met with the same sight he saw every time he looked: Dream and his sword, one in the same.

He’d just wait here for him, George decided, letting his head fall onto the table. Dream hadn't eaten yet, and George had made dinner. So he'd just wait here. That was reasonable. And maybe he’d just shut his eyes for a small second, just to let them rest.

George didn’t know how long had passed when he opened one eye at a time. He was still groggy, the past few weeks of little to no sleep finally catching up to him. He was aware that he was somehow moving, bopping up and down slightly, even though he didn’t think he was walking.

Slowly coming around more, he glanced down at his feet. No, he definitely wasn’t walking. His shoes were right there, unmoving bar the slight sway of his loose laces. George sighed into himself. Dream always had to remind him to tie his laces.

A yawn slipped out of his mouth, and it was only then that he fully comprehended what was happening. “You yawn like a cat, y’know?”

George blinked up at Dream, words stuck in his throat. Dream just gave a quiet huff of amusement as he rounded the corner, George light in his arms. The smaller man considered objecting, considered scrambling out of Dream’s arms, as he stared blankly at the tanned arm holding his legs, littered in long, silvery scars. Dream had scars all over his body, snaking around his waist and his legs, criss-crossing over his neck like an intricate pattern. Sometimes he’d talk about where he’d gotten them, spoke about them like they were medals. George guessed they kind of were. 

George also guessed that they were kind of beautiful.

Suppressing another yawn, he said fuck it and threw his arms around Dream’s neck, dropping his head against his chest, face warm against the soft fabric of the hoodie. George played with the yellow fabric, the colour matching Dream’s saturated pale eyes, hidden by his white disguise. “I made dinner,” George mutters when they reached the landing, Dream kicking open the bedroom door with his foot.

“I saw,” Dream nodded, and if he hadn’t been wearing his mask, George would’ve seen the guilt painting his strong features. “Sorry I was out so late,” he added as he shouldered the door behind them. George didn’t reply to that, not knowing what to say without coming across annoyed. And he wasn’t _annoyed_ exactly. He kept his mouth firmly shut as Dream dropped him onto the bed, with that heart-breaking tenderness that had been missing since the war had begun.

He just wished that he could always have this Dream. The Dream that only seemed to appear when the darkness covered everything. The Dream that spoke softly, barely above a whisper, pale lips parted. The Dream that sometimes-let George count the freckles that were peppered across his shoulders. The Dream that felt like his. The Dream that didn’t belong solely to the war.

George had fallen in love with that Dream.

“Just come here,” George murmured sleepily, patting the mattress beside him. Dream obliged, his back hitting the bed as he kicked his shoes off, chest rising and falling rhythmically. George slowly reached over, fingers lingering over the string that tied the mask to Dream’s face, and when the taller boy didn’t object, he lightly tugged. The mask fell from his face, and George was met with his Dream.

His pale eyes didn’t reflect violence in them. His lips weren’t pressed into a cocky snarl, threats ripping from his throat. No, Dream just watched George carefully, throat bobbing slightly when George dropped onto his back beside him. They didn’t speak, George just settled onto Dream’s chest, humming contently when the blonde boy threw an arm around his shoulder, calloused fingers tracing shapes across his back. George reached up, fingers lightly tracing the long scar that travelled down Dream's right eye. The younger boy shuddered lightly, eyes fluttering shut. 

This was his Dream.

Sapnap had thought George wanted to switch sides. Wanted to abandon them. George would never do that. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. It would kill him to walk away from Dream. No, George would never do that.

The only thing George was terrified of was losing his Dream to the Dream that craved the war. The Dream that basked in glory, golden pride washing over him as he stared, grinning, out across a battlefield. The Dream that stalked through fields like death incarnate, wielding an unforgiving weapon as he slashed through skin like wheat. The Dream that had screamed at Tommy, voice harsh, raw and unrecognisable. _No mercy_. The words rang around George’s head, sounding like a death knell.

As sleep claimed George again, his fingers tightened on Dream’s hoodie. Like he was scared he might slip away in the night, leaving George for the taste of blood. He could keep Dream sane, he decided, mind drifting. He would keep him sane. His fingers clenched the fabric so hard in his sleep that his knuckles turned white.

George squinted open his eyes as streams of light shone in through the window. He blinked a couple of times, arm leaning out to feel Dream. He wasn’t surprised when he was met with a bare mattress and a discarded hoodie, still clenched in his fingers.


	3. Awake at Night and Scheming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'War is like a fire - if you do not put it out, it will burn itself out.'
> 
> A raging inferno burns in Sapnap's eyes.

It was widely recognised what the soft murmurs of Sapnap’s humming meant.

To an outsider, the wordless melody might have been a comforting sound. The way the youth mindlessly tapped against his leg as he hummed, head dropping in time with the rhythm, might even have appeared adorable. If it wasn’t for what always followed the humming.

Sapnap’s humming was a death knell. A calling. A warning.

And as he picked his way through the jungle, feet soft against the moss, Sapnap’s humming could be heard. It was almost as if the wind surrounded him, amplifying his soft tune past the winding trees. If anyone had been around, ears pricking at the melody followed by the padding steps, they would’ve ran.

But Sapnap was alone in the jungle, his cautionary song falling on deaf ears.

Wrists rolling, the young man pulled himself across the landscape, scowling as his foot caught on an exposed root. Unsheathing his sword, Sapnap’s hum harmonised with the heavy ballad of the blade swinging through the air as it sliced through the root.

Sapnap caught his reflection in the glinting weapon, grinning back down at himself as he continued through the jungle. He’d taken the long way around towards Tubbo’s new base. He was technically scouting out possible escape routes Tubbo could take during their upcoming planned attack. At least that was what he’d told Dream. He needed a valid excuse as to why he’d be gone for a while, and it wasn’t like he could say what he was really thinking.

_Look, I love you and George, but your own short-circuiting feelings keep burning me in the crossfire._

Sapnap sighed, lips parting slightly as he breathed in deeply, the fresh air almost cutting at his throat. Sapnap liked walking. And he liked walking alone. It let him ignore everything else.

Ignoring things was a speciality of Sapnap. He was incredibly good at not thinking about things, until said things forced themselves onto him. He was especially good at ignoring the way his friends acted with each other. The pining, the long pauses, the stuttering over words. Sapnap got great at ignoring those. Until his friends' thoughts became too loud, too suffocating. Until Sapnap could practically hear the indecisiveness in every word George said, and the longing in ever breath Dream took. 

They finally managed to pull their shit together not that long ago, and then they get into a fucking war. And his friends' thoughts became too loud again. Now George's face was always painted in crippling anxiety and fear, each laugh forced, each smile a lie. And Dream was always stiff with anger, with the crippling need to _win_. Every strike was fuelled with a sea of raging emotion, every blow landed. Every single time. 

Sapnap wasn't a stranger to how Dream fought. Wasn't ignorant as to how powerful Dream truly was. He'd fought with him himself, each manhunt more terrifying than the last. But Dream never fought to kill when it was with Sapnap and George. Dream's strike never hit. But in the past few weeks, Dream hadn't missed one shot. A strike to Wilbur's gut. An arrow to Tommy's side. A potion smashed right in Fundy's face.

Yeah, George and Dream both thought too much. Too much and far too loudly. They would bite their lips, eyes glassy and faraway, feet mindlessly tapping against the floor as they thought and thought and thought.

Sapnap didn't like thinking. 

Pulling himself up and over a jungle tree, Sap perched in the branches, leaning his head against the trunk. He could see Tubbo’s base from here, the wooden structure peeking through the thick leaves. It was glaringly obvious there was no security measures set up there, gaping entrances at every wall. Sap knew Tubbo wasn’t there, knew he was in L’Manberg with the rest of them. With the rest of the _revolutionaries_. But even if he had been there, he wouldn’t have lasted a minute against Sapnap and his sword.

He almost felt bad for the kid. He’d made it so easy for Sapnap. Almost laughably easy. As he slid further down onto the branch, legs dangling, Sap’s eyes fell onto the bandage wrapped tightly around his arm. Curtesy of Tubbo himself.

_Sapnap’s grin reflected in Wilbur’s dark eyes, his own white teeth baring back at him as he pinned the older man down. Sap’s grin only grew wider as they both watched the fire continue to encase the forest, inching closer towards them._

_Sapnap had managed to cut off Wilbur before he could make it back to the safety of L’Manberg’s walls. The fight had been something Sap had been craving for a while. The intensity, the animalistic instinct to survive. Yeah, it had been too long since his last proper fight. And he was grateful to Wil for providing. He’d even told Wilbur this after he won, but the British man just stared up at him like he was insane. He hadn’t even really fought back as Sapnap pinned him to the ground, arms on either side of him. But then Sap had flicked that flint and steel into the forest, and Wilbur had started shouting in panic._

_Wilbur now struggled under Sapnap’s hold, grasping at his arms as he desperately tried to push him off. Frustration painted his face, worry etched across his face as he fought back. His eyes wandered over to his abandoned crossbow, desperate to have the weapon back in his fingers. Above him, Sapnap didn’t budge, eyes focused on the flames, beautiful golden blazes as they devoured the trees that stood in the way of their waltz._

_Sapnap hadn’t even realised anyone else with them was there until a firework of pain exploded across his upper arm. He snarled out, more in frustration than pain, and glanced up. Tubbo stared back down at him, eyes wide in terror as the realisation of what he’d just done hit him. “Get off him,” the kid said, voice trembling slightly as he aimed his blade at Sap._

_The American hadn’t spoken, merely shrugging before he pushed himself up, ignoring the heavy pain in his arm. Wilbur’s heavy breathing from the ground was a grounding rhythm as Sapnap arched an eyebrow down at Tubbo. “You wanna dance, kid?” he asked, dropping down into his fighting stance as he slowly dragged his own sword out from its scabbard._

_To be fair to him, the kid didn't pussy out. He stood his ground, diamond sword still aimed at Sapnap. Pushing his tongue into his cheek, Sap glanced down at his own weapon before passing it from hand to hand. Then he threw it down at Tubbo’s feet. The boy flinched violently, chest heaving before he realised Sapnap wasn’t attacking him yet._

_“Take it,” the American offered, shrugging lightly. The kid didn't hesitate after that, discarding his own sword as he quickly scrambled to pick up Sapnap’s, fingers clenching around the hilt. Sapnap held his arms out, signalling that he was ready whenever the kid was._

_Tubbo moved quickly, but Sapnap was quicker. Ducking down, Sap rolled towards the discarded diamond sword, snatching it up before he was on his feet again. He parried every one of Tubbo’s attacks easily, even with an injured arm, and had the British kid disarmed in a minute. Sapnap was disappointed._

_This war wasn’t going to be fun if this was how they all fought. Terribly, that was. They fought terribly._

_Sapnap had the sword pressed gently against the kid’s gut, giving him an awkward smile before he slung his other hand in his pocket. The forest around them continued to burn on, leaves crinkling up into nothing. Ash fell around them, embedding themselves in Sapnap’s hair._

_“It’s not personal,” he shrugged again before he went to make the final cut. This pathetic fight had rendered Sapnap bored, and he was ready to go back to choking out Wilbur._ Oh _._

_Sword falling from the target, Sapnap turned on his heels, scowling as he came face to face with the President of L’Manberg. There was also an arrow aimed at his forehead._

_The older man cocked his head and Sapnap bit back a growl. “It’s not personal,” Wilbur bit out, voice laced in antipathy. “Tubbo,” he said, voice stern and firm. Sapnap felt the kid hesitate behind him, but when Wilbur clenched his jaw, eyes widening slightly in warning, Tubbo scurried to his side. “I’m not going to kill you,” Wil said, face now relaxed with the boy by his side. Sapnap blinked in surprise._

_“That’s a mistake,” he said, looking at Wilbur curiously. The older man only shrugged, lowering the crossbow as he took a step back, right hand placed protectively on Tubbo’s shoulder. “You should kill me,” Sapnap said, brows knitting together. “It would give you a massive advantage. This could help you win. Five against Dream and George is more realistic than five against all three of us. You know you can’t win this.”_

_“I don’t intend to win my land’s freedom by murdering you. I'm not going to lose myself to this war.” Was all Wilbur said before he slowly backed away, disappearing into the forest, Tubbo at his heels. Sapnap stayed where he was, watching as the two men left him alive and unharmed. Well, mostly. He gripped his hand over his bleeding wound, taking a sharp intake of breath._

_Tubbo glanced back over his shoulder, but when his eyes met Sap’s, he quickly turned back, chasing after Wilbur._

Yeah. Sap almost felt bad for the kid.

Not bad enough to not do his job though.

Sapnap’s trainers hit the ground with a thud. Flecks of mud brushed up against his trainers as he jumped down from the tree, sword loose in his fingers. Sapnap was silent as he leapt from tree to tree, vaulting over bushes and ducking under stray branches.

He let out one ominous hum as he dropped down in front of the main entrance to Tubbo’s base. Sliding the sword back into its place, Sapnap slowly straightened up. Nothing sounded from within the base. A feral grin slipped onto his face as he strode into the base, leaping across the water, heading straight towards the chests lined up against the walls.

He’d been marking Tubbo for days now. He might even know Tubbo’s inventory better than the kid knew it himself. Murmured hums slipped from Sap’s lips as he strolled through the long corridors, his fingers running across the chests’ rims. He let out a slow whistle when he came to the chest at the end of the room, shoved precariously to the side and badly hidden by boxes full of glass bottles. Dragging out the chest towards him, Sapnap shook his head in disbelief. They made it so easy.

He took his time transferring Tubbo’s emeralds into his own satchel. He sat cross legged on the floor as he marked down each jewel before shoving it down into his own bag. He munched on the steaks George had given him as he worked, each emerald a step closer to complete annihilation.

And when he finished, the majority of L’Manberg’s emeralds now in his possession, he held up a flint and steel. Glancing up and down, Sapnap took in every one of Tubbo’s chests. Each one organised, the result of hours on end mining, farming and crafting.

Sap had told Dream he was just coming for the emeralds. They couldn’t possibly let L’Manberg have that much currency over them. But as Sapnap’s eyes wandered over the full chests, lining the cobble corridors, he changed his mind.

L’Manberg wasn’t getting any of it.

Sapnap’s soft humming finished sharply when he tossed the flint and steel into the raging fire. He watched as it ripped apart the chests, consuming every single item stored in the jungle base. The smell of ash surrounded Sapnap like a glove and he revelled in the feeling. His fingers brushed over his palms, staining his skin with ash.

As the heat from the inferno brushed at his cheeks, almost like a kiss, Sap turned to leave. There was no coming back from this. L’Manberg was finished. They would have no choice but to surrender to Dream. Sapnap let himself glance over his shoulder as he wandered towards the entrance of the base, bidding farewell to the dancing flames of crimson. Maybe Dream wouldn’t let them surrender. Maybe it had gone too far, like George had said. Maybe Sapnap didn’t care.

As he made to leave, a shadow stepped out from the mist. The drifting light from the fire cast illuminations on the person, but it wasn’t until they moved into the threshold that Sapnap realised who it was.

“Evening, Sapnap,” Eret beamed as he stepped into the light, orange flames roaring from either side of him. The two men stood above the fire, steady on the cobble walkway. “You know,” the man said, glancing around at the burning base. “I always thought the pyro thing was a joke. Guess not,” he added as he turned back to Sapnap, tongue running across his bottom lip.

Sap nodded slowly, slinging his hands in his front pockets as he watched Eret. He pushed a smile up onto his face, making sure his teeth were bared. “Guess not,” Sapnap repeated, words coming out harsher than Eret had said them.

The brunette didn’t move from where he stood facing Sap, even as the flames threatened to lick at his shoes. It was only then that Sapnap realised Eret wasn’t in his full uniform. He was wearing his old suit pants, white shirt half hanging out. And he wasn’t wearing that stupid fucking coat, instead it was hooked on his finger, slung over his shoulder. Sapnap tilted his head up at the other man, gesturing for him to speak.

“Sapnap, my friend,” Eret started, lips quirking up into a smirk as he pushed his glasses from his eyes onto his head. “I have a proposition.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say it with me; Sapnap Supremacy


	4. Nothing Ever Lasts Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Opportunities multiply as they are seized.” 
> 
> Eret seizes an opportunity to stay alive.

Eret was a smart man.

Sure, he wasn’t a malevolent instigator like Dream, always three steps ahead of everyone else on the board, always a finger’s flick away from a checkmate. He wasn’t a smooth diplomat like Wilbur, always knew what someone was going to say, could calm down even the wildest of storms.

But he hadn’t died yet. And in Eret’s mind, that had to count for something.

Honestly, he thought the war was imprudent. It had gone past fighting for independence. And Eret was just watching as everything crumbled down around him. Tommy’s anger crackled through L’Manberg, itching to prove himself to Wil, to himself, to Dream. A burning desire clearly raged within the teenager, narrowly supressed by Wilbur.

Dream wasn’t fighting a war, and Eret didn’t know if he ever was. It was just one intricate game to him. He was pulling on the strings, masked face grinning as each pawn ran down his carefully constructed paths. For every move L’Manberg could every possible make, Eret knew Dream had ten possible ways to finish them off.

“I have a proposition,” the Brit said slowly, each word falling off his tongue smoothly. He watched as Sapnap’s brows lifted in curiosity. The flames hissed beneath the two of them, and Eret tried to ignore the way the base roared in answer to its destruction. Wooden beams smashed to the ground, landing in the water with an angry splash. “I want in,” Eret said, rolling his shoulders back as the other man tilted his head up at him, eyes running up and down. Sapnap didn’t look convinced as he blinked, clicking his tongue before he took a step towards Eret. His black eye was only made more prominent from the flames casting shadows down upon them both, and the sight made Eret’s stomach clench.

Eret had actually been hoping to catch George. Everyone knew he was the weakest link in the enemy team. Worst at fighting, worst at pretending like he didn’t hate fighting. But George hadn’t been spotted in a couple of days, hidden in the base with Dream. Sapnap was the only one Eret had actually seen outside, scouting for supplies during the day and fighting monsters at night.

But he had already decided to not try with Sapnap. The last time they met certainly didn’t paint Eret in a great light in the American’s eyes. But Eret was running out of time. The grains were slipping through his fingers, and he couldn’t keep his head above the quicksand anymore. Eret was being dragged down by L’Manberg with every fleeting second this war continued. And he had no intention to die at the hands of Dream. If that meant selling out his team, so be it.

“Why?” Sapnap asked after a couple moments of nothing, dark eyes flickering up to meet Eret’s. “Why’d you wanna switch sides?”

_They’d known they couldn’t take all three of them on at once. It would be suicide. But Sapnap on his own? There was no way the texan could take all three of them on at once. Not if they planned it right. And they’d been right. Tommy had been right about something for once in his life._

_And the shit-eating grin plastered across his face as Tommy stood above the chained up Sapnap was evidence enough to show that Tommy knew. The teen glanced over his shoulder towards Eret and Tubbo, throwing them a satisfied smile._

_It had actually been easier than expected. Eret was surprised. A splash potion of poison thrown against the sleeping Sapnap and he was out. He’d struggled, eyes flashing open, a dangerous anger painting his features as he’s scrambled out of his bed, hands reaching out as if he could strangle Eret and Tommy with his bare hands. But then he’d fallen to the wooden floor with a thud, Tubbo standing behind him, hilt of his sword raised._

_It had taken them an hour to drag the unconscious Sapnap out of his home, through the forest, and into the precariously perched treetop base Tommy had built. “This was the best place you could think of?” Eret asked as he glanced out of the window, glaring at the rising sun off in the horizon. It didn’t feel fair to Eret. That the sun still rose and fell as they all kept fighting, day after day after day._

_Nothing else cared about the war. Not the cows or the endermen that came out at night. Not the fish or the rain that smashed down against L’Manberg’s walls. Nothing else gave a shit that everyday Eret almost died._

_“Oh, I am sorry,” Tommy sniped back, rolling his eyes. “Sorry, Mr Eret, that we didn’t have enough time to construct a secret underground bunker to store our hostage.” Eret just rolled his eyes, turning back to gaze at the sky streaked in pink. Personally, Eret thought an underground bunker would’ve been a great idea. He mentally kept a check of it to mention later to Wilbur. An underground bunker where they could keep their supplies. Somewhere they could run to, in case things ever got especially dire._

_“I’m not your fucking hostage.” Sapnap’s voice pulled Eret back from his thoughts. The American was sat on the ground, chains wrapped tightly around his body. He didn’t even look scared. He actually had the audacity to look bored. He tilted his head up at Tommy, dark waves falling in his face. Sighing in frustration, he took to trying to blow the hair out of his face, hands squirming behind his back._

_“We have you chained up,” Tubbo pointed out from behind Tommy. Sapnap just arched an eyebrow as he glanced up at the younger boy. “So, what are you going to do with me, Tubbo?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious. Tubbo shot a worried glance at Tommy but the blond boy just frowned in confusion._

_“You don’t know,” Sapnap nodded before he leaned back against the wall, rolling his eyes. “So, when are you letting me go?”_

_“We’re not letting you go,” Tommy snarled, folding his arms defensively._

_“Alright,” Sapnap conceded. Eret didn’t like how calm he was. The way his shoulders were relaxed under his white shirt. The way he was sitting, one ankle thrown over the other and back slumped against the wall, as if he was merely talking to his friends. The way his smile seemed permanently etched into his face. The way he was acting like he knew something the three of them didn’t._

_“When are you telling Wilbur then?”_

_Eret paused, breathing stilling. Tubbo’s face bleached of colour as he stared down at the smirking Sapnap. Tommy was the only one who seemed unfazed, shrugging. “He already knows,” he lied easily. Sapnap just hummed in response, that feral smirk still on his lips. “Why wouldn’t he know?” Tommy asked gingerly and Eret silently cursed him. Sapnap nodded in amusement, knowing he had them where he wanted them. Wilbur didn’t know. They had no idea what to do with Sap. They really hadn’t thought this through._

_“Doesn’t seem like his style,” Sapnap said, eyes dropping to his scuffed shoes. “Wilbur doesn’t seem like the stupid type,” he added, looking back up at Tommy with a cast of mock innocence on his face. “No, no,” Sapnap kept going, and Eret’s breathing picked up. He was toying with Tommy, trying to get him to Snap. Because if Tommy got too close to Sapnap, who know was completely recovered from the poison…Eret’s eyes dropped to the iron sword at the youth’s side. Oh, fuck._

_“That’s much more_ you _, Tommy,” Sapnap pried, leaning forward in his chains, jaw jutting out defiantly._

_“Shut up,” Tommy hissed, browns knitting together in annoyance._

_“Oh, come on,” Sapnap tried, rolling his eyes as he fell back against the wall. “We all know it’s true. Right?” Sapnap asked, eyes darting from Eret to Tubbo. Neither of them spoke; Tubbo’s words being choked down by fear, and Eret too interested to see how this would play out. “And there you have your answer. Bitch boy,” Sapnap breathed, his words dripping in venom._

_“I know what you’re trying to do,” Tommy replied, shrugging. But everyone could see through the false act of nonchalance. “It’s not working. I’m not going to fight you.” He looked away from the ‘hostage’, training his eyes on a slate in the wall. Eret leaned back slowly, glancing sideways at Sapnap._

_“Worth a shot,” the Texan sighed, the chains rattling as he shrugged. “I knew it wouldn’t work. You’re too much of a pussy. That’s why Wilbur doesn’t let you speak. That’s why he doesn’t trust you. That’s why no one trusts you, Tommy. I bet it’s why Technoblade hates you.”_

_The mention of that name snapped something within Tommy. “Shut up,” he snarled, pointing an accusing finger in Sapnap’s direction._

_“You know I’m right,” the Texan pressed. Eret watched as anger flared across Tommy’s face. “It’s why they never really accepted you in, right? It’s always them and Tommy. Because no one likes Tommy.” A growl ripped from the blond’s throat, and Eret watched in horror as he flew towards Sapnap. Tubbo gasped, hands gripping his hair. He was frozen in shock, knees trembling slightly as Tommy and Sapnap tumbled around the floor, fists flying._

_Eret moved quickly, heart racing as he watched Sapnap’s eyes fall on Tommy’s sword. Before the American could try and grab it during the brawl, Eret snatched it up, backing away slowly. Sapnap’s mouth formed a small o as his eyes met Eret’s. He sighed as he watched Eret tighten his grip on Tommy’s sword. And then he seemed to just…give up. As if he knew he was fucked now._

_He went limp as Tommy’s fist made contact with his jaw. Then with his eye. Over and over again, the sound of knuckles breaking skin echoed around the shitty treetop base. Tommy didn’t stop, and neither Tubbo nor Eret tried to stop him. “Why can you never keep your fucking mouth shut!” Tommy screamed as he slammed Sapnap down against the floor, the Texan grunting in pain._

_Tubbo finally called out, moving to wrestle Tommy off of Sapnap. “You can’t kill him, Tommy!” Tubbo protested, grabbing onto Tommy’s clenched fist. The three of them watched as Sapnap weakly turned onto his side, wincing as he spat blood onto the floor. “You broke my fucking nose,” he whispered, eyes fluttering shut. Tommy shrugged Tubbo off, but he stood up, backing away from his victim. Eret watched in silence, mouth firmly shut. Tommy’s sword was tight in his fingers._

_Eret balked at how shit Sapnap looked. His face was caked in blood, headband torn and eyes bloodshot. An angry, purple bruise was already blossoming around his right eye. His face was a map of harsh red marks. His breathing was ragged as he lay on the floor, blood dripping from his mouth._

_“He’ll be fine,” Tommy said, voice quiet. “We’ll just-”_

_“We have to tell Wilbur,” Tubbo said, biting his bottom lip. “We have to tell Wil.” Sapnap coughed again, the sound grating and hoarse. “Does anyone have a potion of healing?” Eret asked, handing Tommy his sword back as he approached the two younger boys. Tubbo shook his head, and Tommy’s face contorted into annoyance. “We’re not giving him a fucking regen potion,” he argued._

_Eret opened his mouth to tell Tommy to shut the fuck up and_ look _at what he’d done to Sapnap’s face, when a chilling voice called up to the three in the treetop base._

_“I’d like my friend back please. Preferably unharmed."_

_The three of them balked at the new voice. From the ground, Sapnap let out a sigh of relief, attempting to crawl towards the door, wincing in pain. “Tommy,” Dream called up again, voice terrifyingly melodic. Eret snuck a glance out the window, eyes widening as he saw Dream down below, leaning back on his heels as his deranged mask peered up at the base._

_“Dream-” Sapnap tried to call out, before Tommy wrapped a hand around his mouth._

_“He’s a prisoner of war,” Tommy shouted back and Eret had to stop himself from smacking his forehead at Tommy’s stupidity. “So, you want to do it the hard way,” they heard Dream sigh. “Alright, that’s fine with me.”_

_Sapnap’s eyes widened as it went silent, and Eret slowly backed up into the corner of the small base. The four of them listened out, but all that sounded was the morning birds’ songs, along with the soft trickle of a nearby water source. Tommy silently signalled towards the door, Eret and Tubbo nodding in understanding. The two of them crept towards the entrance, swords ready. Their fingers itched in anticipation and Eret knew this was it. They were going to die._

_They waited at the door but Dream never came. Instead of the door flying open, there was a loud thudding sound behind them. Spinning on their heels, the two men came face to face with Dream behind them, netherite sword in hand. He wasn’t even wearing any armour, just that godforsaken green hoodie. He grinned from under his mask, sword rolling in his hands. He cocked his head in challenge, shifting his weight from foot to foot._

_But then Sapnap let out a whimper that could be heard from under Tommy’s hand. And Dream’s head snapped to the side. And the amused façade smashed into pieces in front of them. And Eret finally understood the legends that surrounded Dream's name._

_“Get away from him,” Dream hissed, sword now aimed at Tommy's throat. The British boy didn’t move. Dream didn’t ask a second time._

_Swords clashing, Dream’s came down to meet Tommy’s in an angry ballad. Eret could practically feel the anger rippling off of Dream in hot waves, the sight of Sapnap setting off a screaming wrath in the tall man. No, Eret wasn’t completely convinced Dream was human as he watched him fight Tommy._ _Tommy couldn't get a single attack in, only managing to parry Dream's. Sweat dripped down his forehead as Dream slashed, clearly craving split blood._

_He had Tommy backed against a wall, the young blond shaking in silent terror. Eret saw everything happen in slow motion then, saw Dream’s blade fly back, before it moved forward, the point aimed right at Tommy’s heart. DreamnevermissedDreamnevermissedDreamnevermissedDreamnevermissedhenevermissedhismarkTommywasgoingtodieDreamnevermissedJesusFuckingChrist-_

_Sapnap coughed from behind them, the sound resounding around the room._

_The sound somehow pulled Dream back, and the sword hit the floor instead of Tommy’s heart. Dream moved quickly, moving past Eret and Tubbo in a blur of green, yellow and suffocating fury. Tommy’s knees buckled and he dropped against the wall, chest heaving. Dream never missed. Tommy had been seconds away from death. Seconds._

_Tubbo rushed towards Tommy, arms outstretched as he caught his friend in his arms. And Eret stood still, watching as Dream poured what he could only assume was a regen potion down his friend’s throat before he tentatively pulled him up to his feet, wrapping an arm around Sapnap’s waist. The mask was still firmly on Dream's face, keeping his true emotions hidden, but Eret could see the worry and fear for his friend in the way Dream gently held him. But he could also see the pure seething, unrelenting anger in the laboured breaths and clenched jaw._

_"If he wasn’t about to_ die _,” Dream warned, voice slow and husky. He sounded completely unhinged. “I’d fucking gut you. I’d make you watch each other bleed out.”_

_Dream’s body seemed to twitch in rhythm to Sapnap's ragged breathing, and Eret watched as his fingers darted down to where his sword should’ve been. Instead it lay discarded beside Tommy and Tubbo. There was a split second where Eret thought Dream was going to say fuck it and kill them all anyway. But then Sapnap stumbled, blood dripping from his mouth and clinging to his jaw. And Dream decided saving his friend was worth leaving them alive._

“He’s going to win,” Eret answered honestly. “He could’ve taken all three of us,” he breathed, gesturing to the harsh bruises kissing Sapnap’s face. “But he didn’t.”

“He’s got something better planned,” Sapnap murmured, kissing his teeth as he watched Eret carefully.

"I know," Eret nodded slowly. They all knew Dream had an abundance of tricks up his sleeve. They would be fools to not. "I also have this," he implored, eyes wide and hopeful as he pulled the sword from across his back. He held it out to Sapnap, watching as his face lit up in surprise. The American slowly took Dream's sword from Eret's outstretched hands. A moment of silent passed, suffocating Eret as Sapnap ran a long finger down the blade before he strapped it across his back.

“Alright buddy,” he finally nodded, eyes suddenly bright, complimenting the wide smile on his face. This looked like a completely different Sapnap now. Face painted in amusement, not annoyance or determination. “I’ll talk to him about it," he agreed.

“How will I know?” Eret spluttered out in desperation as Sapnap strolled past him, white headband dancing in the wind. He watched as the American jumped down from the base, landing on the jungle floor in a crouch. It was only then that Eret noticed the satchel stuffed to the brim with emeralds. Tubbo’s emeralds. The emeralds the two of them had spent literal days to collect. Fuck.

“We’ll be in touch,” Sapnap called over his shoulder before he disappeared into the treeline, his soft humming making its way back to Eret as he stood alone in the burning base. He considered letting the fire just consume him, but finally let his feet drag him back towards L'Manberg. 

A day later, Eret found a note pinned on his door. Well, someone had seemingly _shot_ it into his door, the arrow roughly stabbed into his now splintered wood. Tearing it down, Eret ran the paper over his fingers, glancing over his shoulder in case anyone was near. Then he pulled the arrow out from his door and threw the note into his fireplace.

A smile crept up on Eret’s face as he traced his calloused fingers down the arrow’s shaft, pricking his index finger on the arrowhead. His eyes flicked to the fireplace, the flames eating at the paper as it slowly hissed. The last thing that curled up and blackened was the crudely drawn smiley face. It seemed to wink at Eret before it crumpled into ash.

_You better be a good shot_

_– :)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for all the kudos and lovely comments :) 
> 
> I would die for Eret


	5. Hard Times Gonna Make you Wonder why you Even try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When you surround an army, leave an outlet free. Do not press a desperate foe too hard.” 
> 
> Dream will win this war. Even if George slips through his fingers as he plunges sword after sword into heart after heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so I really don't like this chapter lmao sorry in advance
> 
> this is kind of filler and kind of smutty so sorry if that isn't your thing
> 
> also double pov in one chapter cause fuck it, gogy and dream have communication issues 
> 
> ah I did edit it once but im sleepy cause school is a bitch so sorry if it's riddled with spelling errors

Dream knew that he looked like the asshole. He wasn’t stupid by any means; he knew objectively which side he was on in this war. And he didn’t give a shit. 

History was written by the victors anyway. And there was no chance in hell Dream wasn't winning this war.

He leaned down as he watched the sun rise across the horizon through the holes in his mask, the sky painted in soft pinks and purples. His back hit the tilted roof as he ran a coin over his palm, metal slipping in and out of his fingers. The ridges dug into his skin, sides rimming against his nail. They had three hundred more coins like this one piled up in the house, stacks of cotton bags stuffed with coins. Spilling over their counters, dropped against chests, arranged into the shape of a dick on the table by Sapnap.

Tubbo’s emeralds had bought Dream a fortune.

George had argued that they use the money for resources. He would go to the nearest town, exchanging the coins for iron and diamonds, he’d said as Sapnap counted the money, the coins seemingly endless as the raven head man kept pulling them out from his rucksack. How many fucking emeralds had Tubbo scavenged?

Dream had just waved George’s suggestion off with a shrug, leaning over Sap to scoop up a handful of coins. He liked how they felt in his hands. Weighty. Heavy. He’d been so focused on the way the light had shone against the coins that he hadn’t even realised George was speaking to him.

_“Did you say something?” he asked, glancing from his hands to George. He was met with furrowed brows and stormy eyes. Dream’s throat bobbed. He didn’t like it when George was mad at him. Especially not now. Not when he had bigger things to worry about. Because a war was bigger, right? Objectively, fighting against a bunch of insurgents was more pressing than George being pissed at him. If George was annoyed, he would act pissy. He would pout and refuse to pass Dream the salt at dinner. He would sleep on the couch at night, flipping Dream off if he tried to object to it. But George being pissy didn’t mean they died._

_Dream wouldn’t lose everything if George was mad. He wouldn’t lose his power, his standing, his authority if George refused to kiss him in the mornings. He knew this. He understood._

_So, when George snatched the coins out of Dream’s hands, slamming them back on the table (ignoring a wide eyed Sapnap, caught off gaurd by the sound) and dragged Dream by the sleeve out of the room, he already knew that he wasn’t going to engage. He wasn’t going to let George throw him off._

_“Why are you being so fucking stupid?” George hissed as soon as the kitchen door slammed behind them, eyebrows arched. Dream just sighed, folding his arms. “George-”_

_“Let me go to town,” George interrupted him, arms flailing about as he argued. He always did it. Dream sometimes found it cute. Other times he found it irritating. This time it was the latter. But he just let George continue rambling on, leaning against the door as he watched the shorter man pace._

_He must’ve realised Dream hadn’t interrupted him because he looked up with a face painted in part confusion and part surprise. He clenched his jaw, tilting his head up at the younger man as he clamped his mouth shut. “Are you done?” Dream asked, pushing himself up off of the door as he straightened his back. George nodded suspiciously._

_“Ok, great. Answer’s still no, but this was really fun, Gogy. We should do it again sometime,” he added with a grin he_ knew _would piss George off. “Don't call me that. You’re such a fucking asshole,” the older man snarled; dark eyes narrowed with vexation. Dream just shrugged, hands slouched in his front pockets._

_“Look, George, I get your point. But we’re not-”_

_“No, you_ look _, Dream,” George frowned, pale lips tight. “You’re being completely unreasonable. We need-”_

 _“_ You _need to stop fucking arguing with me, George,” Dream sighed, voice strained as he ran his hands through his hair. “I’m in charge here, right? We all agreed on that. We’re not spending that money. Not yet at least. We have enough resources to take on Wilbur already.” George didn’t speak, but Dream saw the muscle in his jaw twitch. “When it comes down to it, what I say goes. If you have a problem with that, then you are completely free to leave,” he rolled his eyes, hand stretching out to pull open the door. He didn’t know why he’d entrusted Sapnap to do the counting. He needed to make sure everything was in order. He wanted to know how much they had before Punz arrived for the debrief. He had to-_

_“What if I did?”_

_Dream’s tanned fingers stilled on the doorknob. He didn’t turn around as he spoke, head dropping._

_"What?”_

_“If I left. What would you do?”_

_Everything around Dream seemed to cave in._

_It was like he was drowning, lungs squeezing as he desperately gasped for air. Why was George saying this? His breath got caught in his throat, jaw trembling slightly as his fingers gripped the metal knob for balance. His blood rushed to his head, and Dream thought he might pass out. He was being strangled by the air around him. By George’s voice._

_But all George was saw Dream flinch slightly, before he turned around, green eyes dark and face stony. This was the Dream from the battlefields. The Dream that people would write songs about, his legend spun through soft strums of guitars. His eyes flashed with emotion. Too many emotions for George, or even Dream himself, to catch._

_“I’d have to fight against you.” The words left his lips easily, falling into the silent air. The proclamation hung there, along with the unsaid insinuation._

_Dream would kill him._

_Because Dream was winning this war. Because George being pissy didn’t end up in his team’s destruction. George being pissy didn’t mean Dream lost his war, lost everything. "I'm winning this war, George," Dream breathed, voice sounding like he was underwater._

_“That's what I'm worried about,” was all George said before he pushed past Dream, hands flying up to cover his face as soon as he fled the room. Dream stood there for a moment, body feeling heavy. An apology flirted with his lips, the desire to chase after George and take it all back crippling. But Dream had to win this war. It had gone past a game now. This was it. This was everything._

_So, he walked back into the kitchen, meeting Sapnap’s questioning gaze with a sharp shake of his head. That was all Sap needed to instantly start speaking, guiding Dream away from whatever had happened with George._

_Dream sat down next to his friend, but Sapnap’s voice faded to nothingness as he stared down at the mountains of coins._

At the soft sound of humming, Dream sat up, wincing slightly at the crick in his back. His eyes fell on Sap as he strode past the house, almost skipping. A huff of amusement escaped Dream’s lips before he leapt down from the roof, cutting off Sap.

“Fuck me,” the younger boy hissed, hand against his chest. “You scared the shit out of me,” he added before he lightly punched Dream’s arm, shaking his head in lock annoyance. Dream wheezed; head tipped back in laughter as Sap rolled his eyes, biting back down on his own grin. “That thing sure is terrifying,” he commented, flicking Dream’s mask before the blonde smacked his hand away. “I liked it better when you didn’t wear it constantly,” he added with a pointed look.

Dream didn’t reply, just gave a snort before he gestured down at Sap’s sword, swinging at the younger man’s waist. He wasn't about to discuss his appearance with Sap. “Where are you going?”

“Scouting,” Sap shrugged, gazing out into the distance, face a cast of boredom. “Can’t stand it in there with George moping about. It’s seriously depressing.” Dream’s heart clenched tightly, like Sapnap had just shoved his fist through his chest.

“He’s up already?” Dream asked, trying to be subtle. But from the way Sap’s eyebrow quirked up, he figured he was being anything but that. “Said something about training,” Sap remarked, tucking a strand of hair out of his face. Dream just nodded slowly, biting the inside of his cheek. Sap opened his mouth, but shut it right after, shaking his head with a smile. “I’ll see you later man,” he told Dream with a slap on the back before he headed off, once again escaping his friends and their suffocating thoughts.

Dream had to win this war.

That came first. He knew this. He told himself this every day. He had to beat Wilbur and Tommy. Had to see the hope and joy fade from their faces as they watched L’Manberg burn. So why did the idea of losing George hurt more than an arrow to the side ever could?

Fingers clenching into fists, Dream shouldered open the door, taking a step inside. Then he clicked his tongue in annoyance and walked right back out. He hadn’t said anything he didn’t mean. If George wanted to keep ignoring him, that was completely fine by him. Dream didn’t need George. He’d merely been a fun distraction while it had lasted. That was it.

His foot trembled over the threshold.

 _George being pissy didn’t matter._ He winced at the sound of his feet moving over the threshold, door slamming in the wind behind him. _George ignoring him didn’t matter._ He found himself trailing through the base, feet dragging across the wooden floorboards. _George refusing to make eye contact with him even when Dream fucking stared didn’t matter_. What had Sap said George was doing again? Training? _The absence of George’s weight, of his warmth, of his arms and his ankles and the way he used to throw his left leg over Dream’s at night didn’t matter._ Dream found himself standing in front of the training room, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot before he let himself glance up through the open doorway.

_georgegeorgegeorgegeorgegeorge_

Everything in Dream’s brain threatened to shut down as he watched George. Though not built like Dream, or strong like Sap, George was agile. Body lean, all sharp edges and lines. He blinked as he watched George drop to the floor, muscles in his thin arms straining as he pressed himself up and down over and over again. His dark hair was clinging to his head with sweat, breathing ragged, and Dream had to press out every single thought that was passing through his head.

His throat went dry when George pushed himself back up onto his feet, quickly tugging his shirt over his head. Discarding it on the floor, George went back down, completely oblivious to Dream standing there like a wraith, haunting him.

George wasn’t a distraction. He never had been. George was his safe space, hidden deep within him, untouchable. The war couldn’t touch George, couldn’t harm him. Not in the safe space Dream kept him in his heart. George wasn’t a distraction. George was his grounding point. George was his.

The older man didn’t notice Dream’s presence until the younger boy swept his legs, resulting in George crumbling to the floor with a grunt. “Sapnap, what the…” he trailed off when he looked up, dark eyes clashing against green ones. “Hey,” he muttered as Dream sat down beside him, eyes glancing down.

Despair filled Dream as George refused to meet his gaze. He had so much to say, but he couldn’t find the words to say any of it. It was all too confusing and terrifying, and Dream didn’t even understand what he was thinking himself. So he did what he knew how to do. He nudged George with his shoulder, gesturing to the weapons rack in the corner of the room.

“Wanna spar?”

*

George didn’t know why he said yes. He should’ve said no. He was _pissed_ at Dream. He was so fucking angry he felt like his blood was on fucking fire constantly. His anger had been ripping at his skin for three days now. It had taken everything he had to ignore Dream. To not run his fingers through his blonde waves. To not mindlessly join up the freckled constellations on his back.

So maybe George was losing his mind a tiny bit. So maybe he was weak and gave into every one of Dream’s whims. Maybe this had been going on for too long. Maybe he just fucking hated sleeping on the couch.

Dream let out a slightly unhinged laugh as George tried to attack, to no avail. A couple of minutes ago they had abandoned the swords, Dream pointing out that George needed to work on his hand to hand strategies. George had merely shrugged, tossing his sword to the floor with an angry clatter. Then he’d dropped into a fighting stance, fists raised, and grin plastered across his face.

So maybe they hadn’t spoken about the fight yet. Maybe they hadn’t spoken about the fact that Dream would sell out George if it came to it. But maybe all George needed was this right now. Just knowing that Dream was still here, still solid, was all right. And maybe he shouldn’t have been so cocky at the start.

He panted when Dream’s fist met his stomach with a sick thudding sound. How the fuck was George meant to learn how to fight when Dream kept fucking punching him. There was only so many times he could stand being flipped and pinned to the floor, or the wall, or find himself panting and just generally staring at Dream’s stupid smug face.

So, the next time he found himself trapped against the wall, Dream’s arms on either side of his head, instead of kicking him and fighting back, George reached up and pressed his lips lightly against Dream’s mask. For tactical reasons.

As soon as he did it, George cursed himself. He should’ve definitely just kicked the fucker or grabbed his discarded sword and chopped Dream’s fucking head off. But suddenly the mask was gone and George’s lips were pressed against Dream’s, and his fingers were curled into Dream’s hair, pressing closer because finally, it’s been three days and he smelled like coffee and tasted like bread and-

And then his balance is gone, and his back is hitting the floor with a sickening thud.

Dream pinned him to the ground in one movement, his green eyes sparkling above George with a rather intent look on his face. George swallowed, mouth dry as he found himself unable to tear himself away from those eyes.

“That,” Dream murmured, breathing a little heavier. “Was a filthy trick.” George didn’t reply, just concentrated on keeping his breathing steady, because there was a real chance he thought he might actually just pass out. Dream kept his eyes on him, and George was hit with the realisation that he’d never seen Dream’s look like this. He’d spent hours memorising Dream’s eyes, but he’d never seen the burning heat that hissed under them right now.

“Filthy trick?” George breathed, liking the taste of Dream’s words in his mouth. The taller man didn’t respond but his arms went stiff on either side of George’s head. So, George decided to be the brave one for once. He was tired of it always being Dream being the brave one. In the war, in their relationship. Always. It was always Dream who made the hard decisions for the group. Always the one who took the risks. Always played the game.

“Can I touch you?” Dream’s breathing hitched and he nodded, muscles in his jaw twitching. George let loose a breath as he touched his face, brushing his hair from those saturated yellow eyes, tracing the lean panels of muscle over Dream’s sweater. When George looked back up, Dream pushed his lips against his hungrily.

George moaned into the kiss, and Dream grinned into his lips in response. George found himself tugging on blonde hair, wanting to feel him, feel every single part of him. In response, Dream slid his large hands down the leaner boy’s sides, skin setting fire to skin. George cringed slightly, suddenly remembering that they’d been training for an hour now, and he knew he didn’t look his best.

“You’re so beautiful,” Dream whispered into the kiss. George didn’t know how that made him feel. He didn’t know how that was supposed to make him feel. So, he just kissed Dream back harder, pulling him against his skin. He let out a gasp when Dream pulled his lips from his. He went to scowl, the fire burning in his heart not satisfied at all from that, when Dream’s lips met his neck. George stiffened, but his fingers found his way back into Dream’s soft hair and he shut his eyes, toes in his boots curling.

He wanted to memorise it all. The warmth and cold coming together as Dream’s hands cupped his face gently and his own hands reached up to pull him closer. He needed to remember everything. Dream was everything.

George needed to remember the look in Dream’s soft eyes when they broke apart momentarily, the way Dream really saw him, the way they saw each other, eyes searching, asking, _is this okay? Are we okay?_

He knew he should probably have been talking instead. He should’ve probably demanded answers, told him he’s a dickhead and he needed to fucking explain himself. But somehow he enjoyed the weight of it all, the gravitational pull between them.

George just couldn’t bring himself to care about anything else. Not the war. Not the money or Tommy or the upcoming battle scheduled. Nothing else mattered apart from how desperately he needed Dream. He kissed George’s neck again, pausing briefly to help me tug his shirt off, grinning brightly, cheeks flushed. George reached up again, hands in Dream’s hair as he pushed his lips desperately against his.

He could feel Dream’s bare chest firmly against his, the warmth of his tanned skin all over as he pulled George closer. He needed him. He needed Dream. He let his mouth wander over Dream’s jaw to his neck. His lips and tongue pressing into Dream’s heatbeat as he felt Dream lean back into him, pull at him, the soft grind of Dream’s hips bucking up against him. Sending fire through his veins. A God. He was a God, and he had chosen George. For some reason, Dream had chosen George. And he needed him to keep choosing him. He knew he couldn’t. He wouldn’t choose George over the war. And maybe that was okay. Maybe he could be second best. As long as it meant he kept Dream.

Dream’s lips on his neck made everything go faster and slower, made everything disappear as George suddenly flipped them, so he was holding himself over Dream, breathing heavy. The shorter man paused for a moment before he glanced down at the blond’s cock, before looking back at him in question. Making sure he was still with him. That this was okay.

_Is this okay?_

Dream smiled down at him in response. A warm curious smile, like he was in awe, and it was every answer George had ever needed. This was everything he had ever needed.

He felt Dream sigh deeply when he finally took him into his mouth, trembling fingers reaching up to twist in my hair. George could do it forever. He stole a glance up at Dream, the smile never leaving the American’s mouth, suddenly accompanied by a slight frown that deepened with the speeding of his breath and the increasing tension in his muscled. George had never seen a sight more beautiful.

When Dream came, it was like the world completely stopped spinning for a moment. George wanted to take it all in, and he couldn’t decide what he loved most. Dream’s fingers curled tightly in his hair as all of his muscles tense, almost like they’re trying to hold onto the feeling, to savour it. Suddenly, Dream was on his feet, grabbing George up with him. Their lips didn’t break apart as Dream tugged on George’s wrist wordlessly, leading him to their room. The taller man shut the door with his foot before he pushed George onto the bed, following quickly.

Dream was here. Dream was with George.

“I didn’t mean it,” George said hours later, as the two of them lay on their backs, staring up blankly at the ceiling. “When I said I might leave.”

“I know,” Dream nodded, even though the younger’s eyes weren’t on him. He didn’t say anything else for a moment before he shuffled on the mattress, turning onto his side to look up at George. “What are you doing?” The Brit asked as he glanced down at the blond, nose crinkling.

“Looking at you,” Dream shrugged, long, strong fingers grazing George’s collarbone. “I love you,” he breathed, the words almost like a promise. Maybe if George kept telling himself it was a promise, he would believe it.

“I know,” George nodded before he also dropped onto his side, throwing an arm around Dream’s waist and nuzzling his face into his neck. Dream sighed with what felt like relief, but George didn’t comment on it. He just leant into Dream’s warmth as the younger boy pulled him closer, arms wrapping around his torso, nose brushing against George’s hair as his jaw rested on top of his head.

The two of them lay there for hours in peaceful, healing silence, before they drifted off to sleep, both of them tightening their hold on the other. They both ignored the fact that neither of them had replied to each other’s assurances.

Dream hadn’t taken back what he’d said.

And George hadn’t said he loved him.

But maybe that was enough for now.


	6. He Will Slay you With his Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.” 
> 
> Tubbo clings onto the knowledge that everything will be alright, just as he clears this final hurdle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck it, long ass Tubbo chapter go brbrbrb
> 
> thank you so much for all your lovely comments so far, they honestly make my day and fill me with such motivation to write :)

Tubbo’s fingers moved quickly, tongue pushed absent mindlessly into his cheek as he weaved the soft tape around the axe’s handle. Once he was satisfied with his work, he gave an excited hum, dropping the finished axe onto the completed pile. Soon he’d have enough tools to trade with, handing over a rucksack of finely crafted tools in exchange for more emeralds.

Tubbo didn’t think about all the emeralds they’d lost already. Stolen from _his_ base, it was hard to not blame himself. He should’ve moved them to L’Manberg or kept them safely hidden in his ender chest. Tommy’s face flashed through his head, Tubbo remembering how wide his eyes had been when Tubbo had rushed into L’Manberg, out of breath and bottom jaw trembling in shame.

He had explained what had happened, his base burned to nothing _again_ , everything gone. Including the hundreds of emeralds. He had raced past Tommy to the base, slamming the door open to reveal a tired looking Wilbur and a surprised Eret. Tubbo had wrapped his arms around himself, shaking his head as he'd tried not to cry. After all, Eret was the one who had helped Tubbo craft and farm enough materials to get the emeralds. And Tubbo had let them slip between his fingers. The idea of disappointing the older man, disappointing his friend, made Tubbo’s stomach clench with anxiety. Eret’s face had fallen, but he had brushed it off with a smile, telling Tubbo not to worry.

He hadn’t been convinced. And as he watched Eret leave the van, head falling, Tubbo had to hold back heavy tears of guilt. But then Wilbur had lightly tugged on the boy’s coat collar, pulling him into a loose hug, long arms wrapping around him. Tubbo had sniffled into Wilbur’s chest, bottom lip trembling. He hadn’t even realised his tears had betrayed him until he pulled back, eyes widening at the wet patch on Will’s shirt. Panicked apologises had tumbled out of Tubbo’s mouth, but Wilbur had just given him a comforting ruffle of his hair, before telling him to get some rest. Telling him that it was alright, that no one blamed him, that these things happened. It was the kind smile that painted Wilbur’s face that let Tubbo believe his words.

He ignored the way Tommy had looked at him. Soft and round features contorted into disappointment, anger settling behind his eyes.

The young boy shook his head, brown hair flopping in his face, as the invasive thoughts dissipated from his mind.

The stolen emeralds didn’t matter. What was done was done, and Tubbo couldn’t do anything about that. What he could do was just work harder. Wilbur and Dream had agreed to have three days of peace, letting each team prepare for the upcoming battle. That left Tubbo plenty of time to work, without having to worry about the threat of a hidden blade behind him every second.

He didn’t mind, actually quite enjoying the time it took to carve each new tool, knife smoothly running down against the wood. As long as Tubbo was helping his friends, he was alright.

He bit his bottom lip as he continued working, foot tapping a wee melody. He was almost done, and then he could quickly ride into the nearest town and get more emeralds. These tools were even better than the last, if he did say so himself. The carvings were neater, wood stronger. Yeah, everything would be alright.

He kept chanting that in his head until he finished with the last pickaxe, carefully placing his work into the bag with the rest. Everything would be alright. He tried to swing the bag over his shoulder, wincing when he almost stumbled at the weight. Everything would be alright. Instead, he decided to drag the bag towards his horse, praying to anyone that would listen that the animal would be able to carry the added weight. Everything would be alright. Tubbo let lose a sigh of relief when he finally managed to balance the bag on the animal before he hauled himself up, settling into the saddle. Everything would be alright.

The horse started off on a slow trot, and Tubbo happily sighed as they made their way out of the quiet L’Manberg, following the wooden path north. He ran his fingers through the horse’s wiry mane, petting the animal as they travelled. “Those are my favourite flowers,” Tubbo muttered to the horse as they passed through a field. He pointed down towards the lily of the valleys that sprung up from the dirt, white petals gleaming in the soft sunlight.

The horse clucked in what Tubbo took as agreement. “Tommy won’t admit it, but I know those are his favourite,” the young boy pointed out as they passed through a clump of orange tulips. “Maybe we can pick some on the way back,” he suggested as he leaned forward, arms dangling at his side as they continued their steady pace.

After another couple of minutes, Tubbo’s ears picked up as a weak strangeled sound called out. The horse stilled under him as he tightened his legs, holding his breath. He waited, beginning to think he must’ve imagined it, when it sounded again. The animalistic call was drenched in pain, and Tubbo was instantly swinging out of his saddle, dropping to the ground. The sound was coming from a small shaded forest, and Tubbo hated that he hesitated for a second, lips tightening when he glanced back at his bag of tools strapped to his horse. “Please don’t run away,” he begged, hand patting the horse’s neck before he took off into the woods, following the cry for help.

It didn’t take him long to find the source of the yelping. His jaw hung open at the sight. A ensnared rabbit, squirming desperately in a trap, wire wrapped around its right leg. Tubbo moved slowly, holding his hands out in an effort not terrify the poor thing. “Hey,” he breathed, trying to keep his voice calming and as unthreatening as possible. “It’s alright. I’m gonna help you, if you let me. Everything will be alright.”

The rabbit stilled as Tubbo lent down onto his knees, feeling the damp grass underneath his trousers. When he was sure the rabbit wouldn’t start thrashing in fear again, terrified it would hurt itself more, his fingers moved nimbly. A small, satisfied smile drifted onto his lips as he almost finished untying the wire.

And then, before he could pull the trap from the rabbit’s foot, something hit him in the chest sharply. He almost fell forward, but his arms shot out to catch him, mind slowly numbing as pain shot through his body, setting off what felt like every nerve in his entire torso. The pain reminded Tubbo of when he first cut himself shaving, stingy, sharp pain had washed all over his jaw.

He blinked down at the arrow embedded in his right shoulder, throat constricting. His whole body trembled as he watched his white shirt turn a bright crimson, sticky wet blood dripping down his chest.

As he scrambled up, hands instinctively reaching up to the hissing wound, a figure stepped out from behind a tree, bow still raised. Tears of unbearable pain clung to Tubbo’s jaw as he slowly backed away on shaking legs. His gaze fell on the empty trap as he continued to slowly walk away. At least the little rabbit had gotten away. Everything would be alright.

Eyes squinting, Tubbo tried to ignore the purple dots that were appearing on his vision. He ignored the throbbing pain in his chest, spreading out quickly all over his right side. He needed to just keep backing up. Needed to get back to L’Manberg. Everything would be alright.

“This isn’t L’Manberg territory,” the figure called out as the bow lowered slightly. It took a couple seconds for Tubbo to realise it was George. Another figure stepped out beside him, narrowed blue eyes directed at him, blonde scruffy hair waving in the wind. The same wind that bit at Tubbo as he kept taking slow steps backwards, ribs feeling completely smashed up in his body. “You’re trespassing,” George accused him, slinging his bow over his shoulder before he took a step towards Tubbo.

At that, Tubbo broke off into a sprint, turning around and desperately scrambling for his horse. Terror threatened to seize him, to grab and slash at his limbs, to drag him down to the ground and pin him there as George drew another arrow. Tubbo couldn’t let that happen.

His breathing was dangerously ragged as he ran out of the forest, eyes widening when he took in the scene before him. Sapnap was standing above his horse, tossing an emerald up in the air. He met Tubbo’s eyes at the same time as the jewel fell into his open palm. “Oh,” Sapnap grinned, eyes wide with mock surprise as he gestured to Tubbo’s dead horse, lying on the ground, eyes open and glazed over. The horse’s throat had been split, and blood dripped from its open mouth. “It fell,” Sapnap shrugged.

Tubbo didn’t stick around to end up like his horse. He knew they were following him, hunting him down like he was their already caught prey. Wincing down at the arrow still sticking out of his chest, Tubbo decided to throw caution to the wind and snap the end off. He knew he had to leave the arrowhead buried in his skin, terrified of bleeding out.

Biting down on his teeth, Tubbo braced himself before he snapped the wooden arrow in half. His guttural scream of pain still echoed all around. Tears quickly following, Tubbo forced himself to keep going, feet moving too slowly. They were going to find him. They were going to catch him, slit his throat and hang him up to bleed out.

Panic flooded Tubbo as he hurried on forward, gasping with relief as he spotted a familiar wooden path in the distance. “ _Oh Tubbo_!” he heard behind him. His blood ran cold at the sound of Dream’s voice. “We’re coming for you, Tubbo!” the voice called again, almost singing his execution order.

Tubbo squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to block out the hunters behind him. But that was a mistake, because the inside of his head suddenly felt like it was tipping, and Tubbo wouldn’t be surprised if his brain had just slipped out of his head. Bile rose up in his throat as he ran, each step feeling heavier and heavier, each step sending an excruciating firework of pain coursing through his bones. Everything would be alright.

His feet finally hit the familiar wood, and Tubbo refused to look behind him as he headed towards the portal. Hand still lightly clutching the seeping wound, Tubbo’s knees threatened to buckle. Gritting his teeth, a new wave of determination swept over him, pushing his pain onto the backburner. Tubbo didn’t have time for this pain right now.

Fuck George. Fuck Sapnap and Dream and Punz and the whole fucking lot of them. This was a grace period, for fucks sake. They had killed his goddamn horse. Sapnap had come back to steal his emeralds, _again_. To try and kill him, _again_.

Tubbo had had enough of Dream fucking about with them. He took a deep breath in as he stumbled over the portal, purple light consuming him as he gripped onto the black stone. He turned as the light pulled him in, staring right at Dream as the four of them continued to stalk in his direction. They didn’t run, merely walked. As if they had all the time in the world. Sapnap was fucking skipping, hands waving at his sides. Punz was swinging his sword from side to side. Dream and George were behind the other two, walking in silence, hands intertwined. Tubbo swore Dream cocked his head at him before the portal ate him up.

He quickly dashed out of the portal, biting back bile as he ran through the Nether. There was another portal around here somewhere. He just had to find it. Wincing as he felt his muscles spasm with each movement, Tubbo kept pushing forward, head dripping in sweat. The Nether was too hot, and the teenager was already running a deadly fever. Shrugging off his military coat, the fabric rough against his fingers.

“Holy fuck,” Tubbo muttered as an idea hit him. Glancing behind him, he swallowed deeply, ignoring the fact that he was dying. The rabbit shot through his mind, writhing in the trap as it fought for its life. The rabbit hadn’t understood what was going on. Had just kept fighting to survive. That’s what Tubbo was going to do.

He was generally an optimistic person, and even though he now had an arrowhead wedged into his shoulder, blood slowly pooling from the wound and movements slowing with each second, he wasn’t going to change that. He was going to do something.

Rolling his coat up into a tight ball, Tubbo threw it off into the distance, ignoring the way throwing away his uniform made his heart choke. One hand still clutching the seeping wound, Tubbo started pulling himself up the netherrack cliff, scrambling to the top. He rolled onto his back when he reached the surface, taking a couple of seconds to calm his shaking breaths. He ignored what it meant when he couldn’t regulate his breathing, chest feeling too tight. Maybe he could just stay here. The pain wasn’t even that bad anymore. Everything just felt kind of numb. Tubbo tried wriggling his fingers, rolling his head to the side so he could see them. He was pretty sure they moved. He let his eyes shut, just for a moment.

He thought about how nice it would be to just drift off, for the aching feeling in his shoulder to go away. But then Tubbo remembered Tommy. It wasn’t like Dream and his goons wouldn’t stop fighting if Tubbo died here, alone in the Nether. The more he thought about it, the more he decided he’d rather warn his friends that Dream had broken the peace agreement. He’d rather die after telling his best friend he loved him.

It took him a couple of seconds to gather the strength to open his eyes. But he did, eyes flashing open to the sight of glowstone softly sending shadows across the cavern’s roof. Pushing himself up onto two spindly legs, Tubbo inched over to the edge of the cliff, waiting for his prey to arrive. He gathered rocks in preparation, scooping them into a small pile as the ghasts in the sky moaned and howled. Tubbo tried to ignore them, the way their fleshy skin peeled as they floated aimlessly sending a cruel whisper down his spine.

Sapnap’s voice was the first he heard when they stepped into the nether. “The fuck did he go?” Tubbo leaned forward, bracing himself on his arms as he watched the four men stand at the portal, glancing around the barren landscape.

“He’s got an arrow sticking out of him,” Tubbo heard George reply, thick accent unwavering. “Can’t have gotten far.”

“Look,” Dream said, voice somehow softer than the others’. Tubbo watched from above as the leader pointed to the direction of his discarded coat, long finger like an arrow, ready to embed itself in Tubbo’s throat this time.

As soon as they stepped forward, Tubbo got to work. Picking the rocks up in his hands, he started aiming at the closest ghast. Scrambling back behind a large maroon boulder, Tubbo grinned as the ghast looked in his direction. Because the monster only noticed the four men standing below him, completely in the open. “Fuck, move!” Sapnap’s warning cry echoed around the cliffs, Tubbo laughing in satisfaction as the four men scattered, scrambling away as fire hissed at their feet. His chest ached after the laugh, a sharp shooting pain rocketing up his neck. Tubbo winced, maddening tears stuffed behind his eyes.

Come on, he silently begged, watching the ghast carefully from his hiding spot. Come on, please. Tubbo would’ve called himself lucky, watching as the ghast aimed right towards the portal, if he hadn’t just been shot in the shoulder half an hour ago.

Dream seemed to realise what was happening before his plan could work, Tubbo watching as the tall man started sprinting back towards the portal, shield up as he skidded across the ground. _No, no, please. Come on_. Tubbo had to bite back a frustrated yell as the scene unfolded in slow motion. “Dream!” George screamed in terror as he watched his friend run straight into the blazing inferno left by the ghast’s attack. “What are you doing? Are you taking the fucking piss? Dream!"

Ignoring George’s strained screaming, Tubbo held his breath, waiting for the smoke to clear. And when it did, he almost started crying of relief right there and then.

Dream stood tall in the middle of the unlit portal. He smashed his shield against the obsidian in a fit of rage, the wood splintering and falling into the fire around him. “Fuck,” he growled out, voice guttural, animalistic. Even from here, Tubbo could see Dream’s jaw clenched under the mask. His fingers flexed out as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Tubbo lent against the boulder, back steady as he silently sobbed. The tears of satisfaction and retribution turning to tears of pure, intense pain. He had to get out now. Had to trap them, had to warn his friends before he shut his eyes, knowing soon he’d be unable to open them again.

“Does anyone have a flint and steel?” Punz asked quietly. George stood in silence, standing back from Dream as he lightly smashed his head against the obsidian. “Nope,” Sapnap shrugged, flicking one of Tubbo’s emeralds into the air before he caught it on his thumb. “Hey, you’re the one who said I had to stop setting fire to shit,” he objected when George scowled at him, opening his mouth to clearly argue back.

“That little shit.” Dream’s voice cut the other two men off, cutting through the humid air like a blade. It made Tubbo still in fear. He scrambled away from the edge, breathing heavily. Each intake of hot, stuffy air hurt more and more. “He’s still here. He’s _here_ ,” Dream hissed, and Tubbo didn’t risk glancing down over the cliff to check what the four men were doing. Instead, he took a shaky breath in one last time before he pushed himself up and started running as fast as he could towards the second portal. He just had to get through. Just had to warn Tommy. That was all he had left to do.

It took him a couple of minutes to find the portal, quickly clambering through it after a nervous check of his surroundings. When he fell out of the portal, he caught sight of the now drying blood that stained his hands. “ _Tubbo_?”

His head picked up at the sound of Tommy’s voice. He resisted the urge to start sobbing, resisted the urge to let his legs buckle and drop to the grass. “Tommy,” he said as he hobbled over to his friend, arms outstretched.

“Holy shit, Tubbo. What happened?” Tommy’s mouth hung open as he held Tubbo up, the smaller boy gripping tightly onto Tommy’s sleeves in desperation. “You need to listen to me,” Tubbo started, risking a glance behind him. “Go get cobble and an end crystal. I portal trapped Dream and the rest of them. They broke the pact, Tommy.” Tubbo growled in a mix of frustration and pain when he realised his friend wasn’t even listening to him. “Tommy!” he yelled, shaking his friend, ignoring the way it painted sharp purple lines across his vision. “Tubbo, I need to go get help. You’ve gotta, it-there’s...there's a fucking arrow in you!”

“Tommy, please,” Tubbo begged before he finally couldn’t stand anymore. His legs completely dropped, useless as they crumpled beneath him. Tommy shook his head as he bent down next to his friend, hands cupping his face. “Please, don’t let them win, Tommy. You can’t.” he breathed, frustrated by the way he had to force his words out of his mouth. He felt like he was choking on his own voice. Deciding to just clamp his lips shut, Tubbo reached up with his hand, softly cupping his best friend’s cheek. He had done it. He’d warned Tommy. Everything would be alright. "Love you, Tommy." 

“We won’t let them win, mate,” Tommy nodded, jaw trembling as his blue eyes swirled with emotion. “We’ll stop them together.” Tubbo frowned, going to shake his head when another wave of pain hit him. He whimpered, about to tell Tommy he had to leave, had to go get the end crystal, when he was suddenly being swept up into two arms. With each jostle, pain ran through every one of Tubbo’s bones, but he couldn’t find it within himself to ask Tommy to put him down, to leave him. He couldn’t open his mouth. Couldn’t even really think anymore.

“Fundy!” Tommy’s voice sounded like he was underwater. Why was Tommy underwater? “Go get an end crystal and cobble. Lots of it. Meet me at the portal near the river. Go!”

Tubbo’s head lolled to the side, nestling into something warm. Something steady and solid. “It’s alright, mate. We’re back in L’Manberg, see?” Tubbo shook his head lightly, now fine with letting the warmth consume him. He just wanted the pain to stop. He couldn’t take it anymore. He didn't need to take it anymore. He'd warned his friends. He'd seen Tommy again, let him know that he loved him. He'd said his goodbye. Now he was alright with the warmth stealing the light from him.

He vaguely comprehended Wilbur’s voice coming from somewhere, and then there were shouts of panic and Tubbo was being pulled away from that solid warmth. He groaned in protest, arms feebly reaching up to bat away whoever was touching him. He felt himself being lowered onto something, and he heard someone scream. It took him a couple of seconds to realise he was the one screaming, a response to the unbearable pain seeping through his body. He was aware of voices around him, but they were all muffled. All incomprehensible.

He was pretty sure someone was ripping his shirt open, and then a crippling pain that started in his shoulder and echoed out into every other part of his body. Tubbo thought he might’ve been crying, because the last thing he felt before everything faded to blissful nothingness was the feeling of someone’s fingers brushing away at his cheek.


	7. Wear Red so They Don't See us Bleed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win."
> 
> Wilbur puts them before himself. And that's never going to change.

Tommy, Eret and Fundy still hadn’t returned.

Wilbur sat, head in his hands and waited. There was nothing more he could do. Anxiety built up in his chest, but then that anxiety was shoved down by worry, and then that was layered under sheer terror. Wilbur didn’t think he’d breathed normally in weeks. Hadn’t been able to sleep for longer than three consecutive hours since this had all started.

He’d wake up in a cold sweat, chest heaving, and brain frazzled. So, Wilbur gave up trying to sleep. Instead he’d just make sure the rest of his friends did. He’d sit at the table, softly strumming on his guitar or scratching down notes all night, and he’d be there for anyone who woke up.

Sometimes it was Fundy, pale skin bleached and gasping desperately for air. He’d notice the older man sitting at the small wooden table and he’d wordlessly clamber out of his bed, dragging the blanket behind him before he sat down, leaning his head on Wilbur’s shoulder. He’d normally say nothing, and so Wilbur would just keep plucking chords, the strings yielding and soothing. It wouldn’t be long before they were joined with the sounds of Fundy’s soft breathing.

Sometimes it was Eret, who’d sit up instantly, face pinched in frustration from waking himself up. He’d pinch his nose and shuffle so his back was against the wall, pulling his blanket up and over his shoulders. And Wilbur would just talk to him. It never really mattered what the topic was, he could just tell Eret needed something to distract him until he physically couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore, or the sun would rise, and the man would leave the van with a small, but clearly forced, smile. It was normally the latter.

Sometimes it was Tubbo, choking back tears as he writhed about in his bed. It always took Tubbo a while to wake himself up, clearly trapped in the nightmare as his face contorted. Wilbur would always pick himself up off of his seat and lightly wake Tubbo up, a soft hand squeezing the boy’s shoulder. Tubbo would wake up, lower lip trembling as he blinked up at Wilbur. It always took him a moment to realise what was happening, and his face would collapse with relief for a split second, before he clearly remembered that whatever was in his nightmare probably wasn’t far off reality. So, Will would just wrap an arm around Tubbo, letting the young boy fall back asleep silently.

It was rarely Tommy. His right-hand man barely slept too, but Wilbur didn’t ask him about it. Didn’t push him. He noticed how Tommy would clamber into bed at the same time as everyone else, but Will could tell he never shut his eyes. The boy would lie there on his back, blue eyes trained on the ceiling until he physically couldn’t keep them open anymore. If he also had nightmares, Will couldn’t tell. The boy didn’t wake up whispering like Tubbo, or panting like Fundy. He just lay there, unmoving until the sun came up and he leapt out of bed, a shit-eating grin always plastered on his face.

Will sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he fell into the chair beside Tubbo. The boy was still unconscious on the table, but his chest was rising and falling steadily, so Will wasn’t going to push his luck. He just needed Tubbo to be alright.

It had been a task and a fucking half to pry the arrowhead out of Tubbo’s chest without nicking anything important. The arrow had been made with hooks, that had embedded themselves in Tubbo’s flesh, ripping unforgivingly into his skin. Tubbo had needed stitches, and with every stitch he’d had to sew, Will had bitten back bile. Tubbo had thankfully passed out from the immensity of the pain by that point, unable to see Wilbur prick into his skin with shaking hands.

He wasn’t the medic here, none of them were, but the title was normally passed to Fundy, who was mildly better with this shit than the rest of them. Maybe he had silently been crowned their medic because the sight of running blood and broken flesh and torn muscle didn’t affect Fundy. Somehow, the man managed to look past that in the moment. Wilbur never could. Could never distance the injury and what he needed to do to fix it from the person trembling in pain in front of him.

But Fundy hadn’t been able to stay. Wilbur could tell he’d wanted to, torn between Tommy as he grabbed every single weapon in his reach, and Tubbo, unconscious and bleeding out to death.

_“We need to go,” Tommy snapped, slamming his sword down into place before he grabbed a quiver. Wilbur watched, throat bobbing as Tommy’s fingers clenched the weapon so tightly his knuckles went stark white. His hands were covered in blood. “Tommy,” Wilbur had tried, reaching out for the boy. If he didn’t know Tommy so well, he’d be surprised at the seemingly shocking lack of empathy the boy was holding for his dying friend. But Wilbur did know Tommy, and he knew this was the only way the blond boy could cope with this situation. He couldn’t stay and watch Tubbo whimper breathlessly, he needed to go and stab his sword into something._

_Tommy stepped out of his reach, leaving Wilbur’s arm to fall pathetically at his side. “We need to go,” is all the teenager said, glancing quickly at his best friend on the table, Tubbo’s arm falling off the edge. “Fundy can’t stay here with Tubbo. He’s a better fighter than you.” He didn’t say it to be cruel, and Will knew he was right, Fundy was a better fighter. But that meant Wilbur would have to…_

_He moved silently towards where Fundy stood, quickly grabbing all the medical equipment he could find. “You’re going to have to…” the dutchman trailed off as Wilbur nodded. “He’ll need stitches after you take it out,” he said quietly, voice wavering slightly as he swallowed deeply._

_“_ Fundy. _Hurry the fuck_ up _.” Tommy’s voice cut through the still air, and Fundy shot a tentative glance up at Wilbur. The older man just nodded, gesturing with his head for him to follow Tommy and Eret._

_“Stay alive,” Wilbur called after them as the three of them filed out of the base, jogging over towards the exit. It used to be a farewell they’d say to each other before going off on scouting missions, or before a battle, something to instil hope on them as they carried the weight of their weapons and their freedom in their hands. But now, with Tubbo’s breathing getting shallower with every breath he took, Wilbur meant it as an order._

_“Can’t make any promises, Wilbur,” Tommy called back to him from over his shoulder before the three of them disappeared. Wilbur spun on his heels instantly, taking a shaky breath as he looked down at Tubbo. “Here we go,” he muttered to himself as he stripped the boy of his shirt, looking away when he catches a glimpse of the wound._

_Wilbur took a shaky inhale of breath._

_He willed his fingers to stop shaking._

_Then he got to work._

Dream had broken their peace pact. And he’d tried to kill Tubbo.

Will guessed he couldn’t blame him. This was a war. And Dream wanted to win.

Wilbur would never say it aloud. Not to his friends, to his brothers. But he regretted starting this war. Seeing Tubbo lie on the table, blood gurgling out of his mouth, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he let out heart-wrenching scream after scream of pain, tears streaming down his face. Will had decided it wasn’t worth it.

He clasped his hands on the table, trying to erase the image of that Tubbo with the one in front of him. His chest was wrapped in tight bandages, blood finally stopping seeping through the white tape. Dark hair fell in his face, crusty and matted in blood. Wilbur pushed himself out of his chair and snatched up a spare bucket that was lying discarded on the floor.

Stepping outside, he sighed into the fresh air as it hit against his face, brushing his hair out of the way. He bent down beside the pond, scooping up water into the bucket before he paused for a moment, meeting his own gaze in the reflection. He looked like shit. Felt like shit too.

Pushing his tongue into his cheek, he forced himself to stand up, dragging himself back to Tubbo. He grabbed a cloth from one of the chests before he set the bucket of cold water on the table beside Tubbo. Wilbur found himself humming a lullaby he vaguely remembered as he damped the cloth before pressing it against the boy’s hair. He carefully washed the blood from Tubbo’s hair, then his face and neck. By the time he was done, the water in the bucket was swirling with crimson.

Pressing the back of his hand against Tubbo’s forehead, he sighed with relief when he didn’t feel burning hot skin. Sure, he was clammy, but that was to be expected. Wilbur went about emptying the bucket, busying himself so he didn’t have to sit and wait. He couldn’t sit and wait.

When he felt himself shiver in his woollen coat, he realised Tubbo must be freezing. Grabbing a sweater he was pretty sure was Tommy’s, Wilbur lifted the sleeping boy up gently and tugged the red sweater over his head, smiling lightly as the boy’s now damp hair came back sticking up in every direction. He lightly pushed the strands of hair out of Tubbo’s face, propping his head up under a pillow. Humming softly, Wilbur stayed by Tubbo’s side, wrapping his arms around himself.

That’s when he heard the panicked shouts. “Will!” Jumping up, Wilbur ran towards the voices, eyes wide as Tommy, Eret and Fundy came into focus. “What happened?” Wilbur demanded as he took in the state of them.

“Block off the entrance!” Tommy said as the three of them stumbled over the threshold. “Block it off,” he shouted desperately, stumbling into Wilbur’s arms. He was fucking limping. Why the fuck was he limping like that?

“You do not give me orders, Tommy,” Wilbur snarled, and he must’ve looked pretty fucking serious, because Tommy silently nodded, clamping his mouth shut. “What the fuck happened?” he asked again as Eret quickly blocked off the entrance into L’Manberg, slumping down against the wall after. He had a cut across his cheek, but it didn’t look deep. Wilbur watched as the dark-haired man brought his fingers up to prod at the graze, blinking when his fingers came back with blood slashed against them.

Tommy swayed in Wilbur’s steady hold, looking like he was about to pass out. “Tommy,” Wilbur warned, glaring down at the boy. “Nothing _happened_ ,” the teen responded, eyes narrowed in anger.

“You’re very clearly injured, you idiot.” Wilbur shook his head, looking towards Fundy for help, for answers, to find the auburn-haired man gone. “He went to help Tubbo,” Eret said, noticing Wilbur glance around. “He thinks you probably fucked up taking the arrowhead out.”

Will rolled his eyes despite himself. “Tubbo’s fine. I got it out. He should be alright.” That proclamation seemed to snap some sort of restraint Tommy was holding on himself, because the teenager tilted forward, letting out a loud sigh before it turned into a whine laced in pain.

Wilbur caught him quickly before he lowered Tommy slowly to the ground, watching with raised brows as Tommy lay out on the grass, clearly trying to not cringe in pain. Wilbur turned to Eret, arching his eyebrows.

“He fell off the tower,” Eret told him, voice nonchalant. Wilbur’s mouth dropped open.

“Jesus Christ, Tommy,” Will breathed out, as the young boy on the ground groaned in annoyance.

“You’re such a fucking snake, Eret,” he sighed in defeat. Eret didn’t respond, just stayed where he was, tilting his head back against the wall.

“Are you bleeding?” Will asked Tommy as he knelt down beside the boy. Tommy just shook his head, not moving from where he lay, eyes shut lightly. “What happened?” Will asked again, this time all the anger from his voice gone. He tried to scan Tommy for injuries, but nothing was clearly visible. Hopefully he'd just sprained his ankle. “I thought you had them trapped. I thought Tubbo trapped them?”

“He did,” Tommy murmured, eyes still shut, but his face twitched in annoyance. “They got out. Ambushed us.”

“How?”

“Does it matter?” Tommy’s eyes flashed open, blue eyes swirling with vexation looking back at him.

“I guess not,” Wilbur sighed, shoulders drooping. He let his head fall back, looking up at the featureless sky. They couldn’t really see the stars from L’Manberg, all the bright torches making it still too light, even at night. Wilbur sat up when he caught a sight of bright green. “Get inside,” he whispered. Tommy and Eret shared a look before Wilbur snarled. “Get. _Inside_."

The two other men nodded, too tired and weak to argue back, pushing themselves up on wobbly feet and quickly walking back inside, joining Fundy and Tubbo. Wilbur stood up once they were gone, looking directly at Dream as he stood on the walls. Hands slouched in his hoodie pocket, head cocked arrogantly and feet tapping against the stone impatiently.

Wilbur’s breath caught in his throat slightly when the two other men appeared, slightly behind Dream, flanking him on other side. Even from where he stood, Wilbur could clearly make out George’s clenched jaw and Sapnap’s lazy, cat-like grin. His body stiffened slightly when Sapnap waved at him. Wilbur ignored him, Sapnap rolling his eyes when he didn't take the bait.

“Gentlemen,” Will called up to them, clasping his hands together. “How are you?”

He watched as Dream licked his lips before giving a huff of amusement. Behind him, the other two men shared a look of confusion. “Good.” Dream’s solid voice rang out across L’Manberg, and Wilbur hated the way he spoke. Like he didn’t care. Like he hadn’t just tried to kill Tubbo.

“Do you like the view of our nation?” Wilbur asked, managing to keep his own voice steady.

“Thought this was a trailer park,” the American shrugged, slight wind rustling at his blonde hair. Wilbur bit down a sigh. Alright. He’d had enough of fucking about.

“Very funny,” he acknowledged, voice deadpan. He watched as Dream frowned, visibly annoyed Wilbur wasn’t playing his game with him. Will ignored the way Sapnap howled in laughter, voice ringing out like a gunshot. The dark-haired man didn’t shut up until Dream turned his head towards him, muttering something Wilbur couldn’t make out from where he stood. But it must’ve been a warning, because Sapnap eased up on his giggling, wiping mock tears from his eyes as he clapped his hands down towards Will. George didn’t move, arms folded as he stayed completely still behind Dream.

“Listen,” Wilbur continued. “It seems you’ve gained an upperhand in peacetime,” he said, voice dripping in hatred. “We’ll meet you in the field. But on _our_ terms.”

Before Dream could respond, a voice laughed from behind Wilbur in glee. “Fuck yeah!” Wilbur glanced over his shoulder to see Tommy standing in the threshold of the base, shoving his middle finger up to Dream on the barricades. For fuck’s sake. Why couldn’t Tommy ever just keep his mouth shut?

Will shot him a look, but Tommy didn’t stand down until someone tugged him back inside, further into the base. “Name a time and place, gentlemen,” Wilbur said as he turned back to face Dream, running his tongue over his teeth. “We will-” Before he could finish speaking, Dream held his hand up, long tanned fingers gesturing for him to stop.

Will arched a brow in question, thoroughly confused. But then he watched as Dream gave a tight bop of his head, and suddenly George was swiftly pulling the bow from over his shoulder, and knocking back an arrow, aiming it straight down towards him.

Will held his breath, ready for the impact. But it never came. Flesh never met steel. He didn’t meet the same fate as Tubbo.

Hearing a list of colourful curses, Will turned to see Tommy in the threshold again, this time with an arrow through his sleeve, pinning him to the door. He wasn’t hurt, but he was bleached of colour, blue eyes wide as he stared down at the arrow in his coat. Wilbur turned back in time to see George lower his bow with a satisfied smile, watching in shock as Dream clapped the archer’s back in praise.

They were going to be annihilated. All five of them didn’t even stand a chance against these three. Tendrils of guilt unfurled in Wilbur’s gut. This was all his fault. And it was going to end up with his friends all dead, eyes glassy and chests still. He regretted everything. Independence wasn’t worth this. Nothing was worth his friends dying.

“We’ll meet you at the embassy in two days,” Dream suddenly said, sounding like he was merely asking his friends to come over for dinner. “Give you a bit of time to fix up your boy.” Anger flashed in Wilbur as Dream even dared to mention what he’d done to Tubbo.

With that, Dream took off, seemingly jumping down from the wall after he lifted his green hood over his blonde waves. George followed him, pushing his goggles onto his head before he disappeared. Sapnap hovered for a moment, white teeth visible as he grinned down at Will, shooting him a snarky salute before he followed his friends.

Wilbur stalked back to the base, pulling the arrow from Tommy’s sleeve and snapping it in half. “Tell everyone to try their armour on,” Wilbur told him, fingers trembling in anger.

“But-” Tommy went to protest, face a cast of surprise. Wilbur had always been very firm in his standing of minimal fighting. But Dream had pushed him too far now. If he thought he could just fuck with them like this. Could just hunt them down one by one, get George to shoot down every single one of them, he was sorely fucking mistaken.

Wilbur shoved past Tommy, letting the snapped arrow fall to the floor. “Prepare for battle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one sucked lmao :/ this weekend got a bit mental


	8. Breathe, Keep Breathing, Don't Lose Your Nerve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All warfare is based on deception."
> 
> You win some, you loose some.

Tommy couldn’t help the grin that danced across his lips as he pulled the bow’s string taunt. He didn’t normally like using long-range weapons, needed to feel the weight of a blade in his hands, needed to see the enemy’s face as he fought, feeling every single attack in his bones.

But, as his arrows whirred through the air, raining down onto the men below them, Tommy couldn’t help but give props to the quiver in his hands. Over the past hour of seemingly endless shooting at Dream and his team below, the wooden bow had become one of his fingers. The string one of his own muscles as he pulls it tight over and over and over again.

His brother stands beside him, tall and sober, exhaling with each shot. Tubbo blew his dark hair out of his face as he narrowed his eyes, lips parting softly as the arrow left, soaring through the air. The two of them weren’t great archers, not like George, but they had the advantage of height.

Standing on the tower, wind howling around them, no one could touch them. They were invincible. Gods, with their long woollen coats dancing around their legs. The cold wind threatened to slice through them, but Tommy and Tubbo ignored the shiver in their bones, just firing arrow after arrow after arrow.

The only one who’d managed to even fire close to them was George, and Tommy watched as the other men defended him. Circling their archer as Fundy, Eret and Will fought them on the ground. From up here though, they were removed from the battle. Tommy missed the sounds of swords clashing sharply, metal hissing against metal. Missed the snarls and the pants and the cries of pain. He didn’t like it up here, the only sounds the bow-strings’ soft gasps paired with the low growl of the wind as it hit the stone. And Tubbo’s wincing every time he pulled the string back, shoulder still clearly bothering him. But he said he was fine. And they needed every soldier they could get, so Tommy wasn’t going to question him.

“I’ve not hit a single shot,” Tubbo snarled out, frustration lacing his voice as the wind carried his words off into the air.

“Just keep going,” Tommy gritted out, fingers scraped and aching as he narrowed his eyes down at the landscape beneath them. Even though they were high up, Tommy swore George looked directly at him, cocking his head as he aimed slowly. Tommy watched the burning arrow soar through the sky with a hasty tune, fire spitting before he scrambled to the side quickly.

His heart rattled against his chest like a stone in a box as he stared at the arrow embedded in a stone crack, directly where he’d been standing. “How the fuck did he do that?” Tubbo asked, voice shaky as he took a ginger step back, both of their eyes widening as they watched George aim again.

“We just have to keep going,” Tommy repeated, gritting his teeth. Will had put him in charge of L’Manberg’s army. He was the one in charge of this battle. And the plan was for them to keep shooting until they ran out of arrows. Taking a tentative look over his shoulder, Tommy ignored the gnawing at his gut when his eyes landed on the thinning numbers of arrows they had left. Tubbo seemed to notice his hesitation, lowering his bow for a moment. But Tommy shook his head, turning back out to the battle. “We keep going."

So, the two boys brought their weapons up, Tubbo biting down hard to stop from cringing as his shoulder groaned in protest at the movement, and Tommy lowering his brows as he aimed straight for Dream, arrow pointing straight for that obnoxiously green hoodie.

But before he could pull back, feeling the sting digging into his fingers, Dream moved back into the forest flanking him, bringing his shield up to protect himself from the maelstrom of arrows. “They’re retreating,” Tubbo laughed, sounding slightly hysterical with relief.

“Holy shit,” Tommy said shakily, letting his quiver drop to his side as he came up beside Tubbo. George followed Dream, throwing the two teenagers one last glare before he trailed after his master like a good little dog. Tommy gave a huff of pride as he watched them scatter, disappearing into the safe cover of the trees. “Yeah, run you dirty sons of bitches!” he shouted after them, not even caring that the howling wind carried his words off as soon as they left his mouth.

“Good work,” Tommy said, voice suddenly much softer, when Tubbo leant against him, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. The other boy just hummed happily, nodding as he let the bow drop from his fingers. “Look at the embassy,” he muttered as his friend prodded at his side, brows furrowing as he held his hand against his shoulder.

“My god,” Tubbo breathed sadly, biting his lip as the two looked upon the wreckage of Tommy’s old home. It looked even worse up here. Too small and broken. Meaningless. Tommy clenched his jaw, rolling his shoulders back with a bite of determination. He didn’t need to worry about his embassy now. That was gone and there was nothing he could do about it. What he could do was continue winning this war.

“We should probably get down,” he said after a moment of silence, glancing over the side of the tower to see the rest of L’Manberg down below, waiting for them. “You good to walk?” he asked Tubbo as his friend gingerly started heading towards the hundreds of stairs leading back down. Tubbo just nodded sharply, not saying anything as he started the trek down.

Tommy followed after him, grin still plastered on his face from the victory. He hadn’t ever felt anything as sweet as this. Never liked anything as much as he liked winning.

*

Tommy couldn’t help laughing as he walked beside Wilbur, arms swaying freely at his side. They were heading back towards L’Manberg, trekking over the landscape back towards their home. He loved the way the cold air almost cut through him, each new breath exhilarating. Another reminder that he was still alive because he had led his side to victory. Tubbo, Eret and Fundy stayed a couple of steps behind, Fundy and Tubbo exchanging stories from the fight.

‘Swear down, George almost hit us from all the way down there,’ Tubbo told the other two men as they walked, ignoring the sharp pain in his shoulder. ‘Sapnap almost sliced my fucking guts out,’ Fundy recounted, crinkling his nose as he remembered the way the dark-haired man had smirked, sword slashing constantly in his tanned fingers.

“Keep with me, Will,” Tommy said as he twirled his sword in his fingers, practically skipping as he walked with the older man. “I just don’t think you’re strong enough,” he quipped as Wilbur arched an eyebrow at him.

Tommy bit down a grin as Will let out a roaring laugh, head tipped back and dark curls waving in the wind. Tommy couldn’t remember the last time Will had laughed like that. It had been too long. Painfully long, he thought, as Will’s laugh rang around him. He shook his head in disbelief, lightly elbowing Tommy.

“I’ve been pulling my weight,” the older man said through laughs, eyes crinkling. “Just because I’m old and frail,” he rolled his eyes, hand resting on his sword as Tommy snorted.

“Your words not mine,” Tommy pointed out, reminding him of when he’d given him the position of leader of the army. Will nodded in mock surrender, opening his mouth to add something when Eret cleared his throat. Pausing, they turned to find Eret beside them, face smiling happily.

Tommy furrowed his brows when Eret wrapped an arm around him and Will, dark glasses hiding his eyes from them. “Gentlemen, in L’Manberg I have grinded for a secret weapon.” Tommy’s heart picked up at that. A weapon? Now that they had the advantage of a victory against Dream, they could quickly push now and try to end it once and for all.

“What is it?” Will asked, and if Tommy hadn’t been so wrapped up in his contemplations of finally defeating Dream, of finally ripping that stupid mask off his face, just so he could see the satisfaction fade from the bastard’s eyes, maybe he would’ve noticed the hesitation in Will’s voice.

“It’s the element of surprise,” Eret said, and his tone was confident enough to hide the fact that that elaborated on nothing. Tommy let out a laugh, wrapping an arm around Tubbo as they came up to L’Manberg’s walls. Tubbo’s face was also a cast of amazement, mirroring that of his friends’, and Fundy was running fingers through his red hair in eagerness.

All three of them burst out into excited chatter as they followed Eret inside, voices high with enthusiasm. “Show us, show us,” Tommy chanted as the older man shouldered open the door into their base, waiting till all five of them were inside the walls again.

“Show us, Eret,” Tubbo echoed, hands tapping against his shield as he hopped from one foot to the other. The dark-haired man laughed, a smile on his lips as he nodded. “It’s this way, it’s this way,” he laughed, shaking his head as he led the four of them towards the river.

Ideas started spiralling in Tommy’s head as he followed his friends, tightly gripping his sword in anticipation. Whatever it was, it could mean the end of Dream. It could mean their independence. This could be _it_.

Blinking, he watched as Eret uncovered an entrance to the inside of a hill, revealing a long corridor into the stone. Tommy was rarely speechless, but as he followed his brothers down the long corridor of rock, he couldn’t seem to force any words out. His mouth just hung open slightly as he squeezed his way through the narrow walkway, fingers running over the cobble.

Torches had been hung up every couple of feet, soft, golden light casting their shadows against the wall, walking as they walked. “Look at us go,” he muttered in astonishment as they made their way further and further, shaking his head in disbelief.

His curiosity only grew as they came to a hollowed-out room, dark stone covering the walls and floors. Their footsteps changed from soft padding to knocks against the dark material. Tommy slowly turned as his eyes ran over all the chests, one for each man. “This is the final control room,” Eret told them as he stood in the middle, watching as the rest of them fanned out.

As the others took to opening the chests, Tommy’s bright eyes fell on a small wooden button in the middle of the room, right on the floor. “This chest is empty,” he heard Will say, voice starting to lace with suspicion. But before Wilbur could question Eret, Tommy was already bending down, arms reaching out for the button before Eret could tell him to not.

“What’s this button do?” he asked a millisecond before he pressed it, wood softly pressing into his palm.

He heard them before he saw them.

Time seemed to slow down as the sound of pistons scraped at Tommy’s ears, the walls slowly sliding open to reveal each member of the Dream SMP hidden in the walls. And there _he_ was, right in front of Tommy, that fucking mask smiling demonically down at him. Before he could scramble back onto his feet, he was met with a netherite sword digging into his stomach.

Panicked shouts rung out, and each one pained Tommy. “You traitor!” he heard Wilbur cry out in anguish, alongside the sounds of smashing glass and steel meeting steel. The way Tubbo roared no, voice too high and fearful, sent flushing waves of anger through Tommy.

“Down with the revolution, boys.” He heard Eret’s voice coming from all around, and Tommy felt nothing but anger, anger, anger. He could barely see through his blind rage. Ringing echoed in his ears. Metallic taste flooded his mouth. “It was never meant to be.”

Too enraged to speak, he managed to stumble back out of Dream’s grasp, the blade only nicking at his stomach. He felt blood dribble down his shirt, but he was too concerned about his friend that he barely registered it. His sword was knocked out of his fingers by someone brushing past him, but Tommy had caught sight of Tubbo being pinned down by Sapnap, a terrifying smile whispering on the raven-haired man’s lips.

Tommy pushed forward, somehow managing to wrestle Tubbo from the other man’s grip and tugging him through the corridor, back the way they came. Tubbo sobbed behind him, but Tommy kept running, almost tripping up over the gravel repeatedly. He had to keep going. He had no idea where Will or Fundy was, but he had Tubbo. He had Tubbo.

He kept a firm grip on Tubbo’s wrist until they fell out of the entrance, both completely decking it onto the ground. Tommy spat out a mouthful of dirt. Tubbo was shaking beside him, tears streaming erratically down his cheeks. Tommy had no idea what to do. What the fuck was he supposed to do?

But he had that answered for him when Fundy suddenly appeared, shoved roughly out of the hole in the side of the hill. His forehead had been ripped open, blood streaming from the split flesh. Tommy looked down at his bare hands, the lack of weapons sending fiery frustration through his veins.

The enemies slowly filed out of the passageway, Dream last, with Wilbur trapped in his arms, dagger pressed roughly against his throat. Blood was falling from the taller man’s mouth, dripping onto his dark boots. Tommy ignored them, emotions overriding everything in his brain. He just wanted to cry. Or stab something. He wasn’t fully sure which one he wanted to do more.

“Eret, how could you?” Will asked from where he stood, pinned down by Dream’s blade. His tone was so defeated, like he was ready to accept death.

“Eret, I fought with you for hours.” Tommy instinctively shut his eyes at the way Tubbo’s voice broke desperately. He sounded too young, too hurt, too overwhelming wretched. When he opened his eyes, they fell on Eret, who’s face didn’t even move as Tubbo spoke through his wracked sobs, clutching onto his hurt shoulder. The younger boy stood in front of Eret, eyes wide with betrayal. Tommy’s face bleached at the sight of blood seeping through Tubbo’s shirt.

“Eret, listen to me, and I mean this in the nicest way possible.” Tommy finally spoke, pushing himself to his feet as he lightly tugged Tubbo behind him, Tubbo's skin brushing against Tommy's cut and grazed palms. Tubbo didn’t resist, letting Tommy lightly manoeuvre him away.

Tommy felt like he was choking on his words as he watched Dream cock his head at him, pushing the blade into Will’s throat ever so slightly as he gave Tommy a slight jerk of his head. The blond boy clenched his fists and snapped his head away from Dream, pointing a damming finger at Eret. The bastard just grinned back at him, baring his white teeth.

“You fucked up.”

*

Tommy couldn’t help the tears that clung to his jaw as he sat on top of the van, legs dangling off the side. They had nothing. Nothing but a couple of iron swords and a spare, shitty shield. They were fucked.

Falling onto his back with a stunted sigh, Tommy gazed up at the stars. At least they hadn’t changed. At least the stars wouldn’t mock him for failing. For failing his brothers, for failing L’Manberg.

If only he’d just noticed Eret had been off. He _should’ve_ noticed. It made so much sense now. The man was barely around, and when he was, something always seemed to happen. An accident, Eret would shrug it off as. And Tommy had just believed him. Like a fucking fool. Someone betraying them hadn’t even ever crossed his mind.

He was an idiot.

He pushed himself up when he heard the familiar sound of someone clambering up the ladder. He didn’t look up when Will dropped down beside him, hand on his shoulder. “I’m meeting with Dream tomorrow,” he said after a moment of silence, his long legs kicking forward and back in the air.

Tommy nodded silently. “You’re all coming with me, but you three will stay with his team while we go speak in private.”

“Like I’m letting that happen,” Tommy snorted bitterly, folding his arms in defiance. Will sighed, sounding tired. “You don’t get to choose, Tommy,” the older man said, rubbing the palm of his hands into his eyes.

“He was about to kill you,” Tommy pointed out. “Literally a couple of hours ago. He was ready to kill you.” The image of Wilbur being held against Dream’s chest, face stained with blood and knife at his throat, made bile rise up Tommy’s throat.

“Maybe you should’ve let him,” Will said quietly. Tommy looked up at that, eyes widening as he watched the older man hang his head. “ _What_?” was all he managed to choke out.

“It would’ve been the strategic move,” Will pointed out, looking up to meet Tommy’s eyes. “You gave up all our supplies for my life. All our weapons, our armour, our materials. We have nothing.”

“We have you.” Will blinked at that. “Isn’t that what this is all about?” Tommy asked when his friend didn’t speak. “Each other? Fighting for each other? If one of us dies…” he trailed off, shaking his head roughly. He couldn’t even entertain that possibility. “Then it’s all over. It’ll all have been for nothing.”

A sad, wistful smile broke out across Will’s face, and Tommy froze in shock when he pulled the younger boy into a tight hug. He didn’t hug him back, didn’t have the strength to even move, but he leant into the warmth. Feeling safe.

“You’ve really grown up, you know that?” Tommy gave a huff of sardonic amusement at that, rolling his eyes when Will let go of him.

“Does this mean I can come with you to talk to Dream, then?” Tommy asked, arching an eyebrow. Will shook his head sternly. “I need to stab shit,” Tommy sighed, dropping onto his back, arms spread out.

“Tommy,” Will started, voice bordering on serious. “Tomorrow I might have to make some decisions you’re not going to agree with.” Tommy opened his mouth to argue, but the look on Will’s face made him clamp his lips back together. “But I need you to remember what you told me tonight. This has all been for us. For our family. And if one of us dies, it’ll all have been for nothing. Okay?”

Tommy nodded, sighing dramatically when Will raised his brows at him. “ _Okay_.”

“Alright,” Will nodded, pushing himself up to his feet, making his way back towards the ladder. “You staying up here for a bit?” Tommy nodded wordlessly, staying on his back as he watched the stars blink down at him.

Eret’s betrayal had made him feel sort of empty inside. But the hope that they would bring it back, that Will had one last trick up his sleeve for tomorrow, kept the star in his heart burning bright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha Eret's betrayal go brbrbr 
> 
> can tommy and dream pls stop starting wars with each other for just a moment I can’t keep up


	9. You're Dreaming up a Way to Explode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Move swift as the Wind and closely-formed as the Wood. Attack like the Fire and be still as the Mountain."
> 
> George tries to hang onto fraying hoodies.

Blood was a son of a bitch to get out.

At least that’s what George had told Dream when the American had arched an amused eyebrow at George as the shorter boy tugged on one of Dream’s sweaters. Blood was a son of a bitch to get out, and every single one of his shirts were crinkled in dried blood. And maybe he just liked the way Dream’s clothes smelled.

But it wasn’t like he was going to admit that out loud. Especially not to Dream. Especially not when Dream just grinned at him lazily, watching him from where he had been laying on the bed, sprawled out, eyes groggy. “Don’t look at me like that,” George had said with a scowl, folding his arms defiantly.

“Look at you like what?” Dream had muttered, southern voice deep and muzzy. He had looked up at George through half-closed eyes, murmuring happily when George had dropped down on the bed beside him, knees tucked under himself.

“Like you don’t believe me,” George had pouted, loosely threading his fingers through Dream’s hair.

“I don’t,” the other boy had answered, leaning into the touch before he had quickly drifted away, the complete lack of sleep catching up to him. And George had been content with just sitting there, tracing Dream’s jaw with his calloused fingers as the soft rays of light shone in through the narrow window.

“Stay here.” Dream’s current voice snapped George out of his reverie and into the present. That Dream, the one with sleep in his eyes and an effortless smile on his face disappeared, replaced with the one currently standing beside him. George ran his fingers over Dream’s knuckles, the taller boy glancing down at him with a blink. He didn’t speak, but he squeezed George’s hand, and that was enough. That meant he was okay. That they were all okay.

George was wearing the same hoodie from that day, liking the way the soft material felt against his skin. Dream had smiled lightly when he noticed him wearing it again, but he didn’t comment on it. Sapnap had though. The whole way here, the youngest boy had laughed at George wearing Dream’s clothes. He didn’t rise to it, merely electing to raise his eyebrows at Sapnap as Dream chuckled quietly from beside him. He could be the bigger person. He didn’t have to quip back. He could just ignore him. But then Sapnap had suggested that if Dream didn’t mind his friends borrowing his clothes, maybe some of his hoodies would find themselves in Sap’s closet.

And that had resulted in George punching Sap in the shoulder. Hard. But his friend had just tipped his head back in laughter, tugging tightly on the drawstrings of George’s hoodie. “You can’t even see the colour,” Sap had pointed out once George had managed to pull the tight hood from off his head. “Isn’t it a pissy yellow to you?”

“So?” George had hissed, crinkling his nose at Sap.

“Aww, is Gogy wearing his boyfriend’s clothes because they _smell_ like him? Are you cosy in Dream's hoodie? It's so big on you!” Sapnap had cooed, poking George in the side as the smaller boy had flushed furiously, embarrassment taking over. He’d scowled, pushing Sap off him before he started attempting to swipe the dark-haired man’s legs out from under him. “ _Guys_ ,” Dream had said, and at the tone of his voice, George and Sap stopped bickering, looking up to see Eret waiting for them, a couple of feet away. Biting his bottom lip hard, George found his way to Dream’s right, Sap on his left. Just like always. And they walked forward, ready to meet Wilbur for negotiations. As George had found his hand in Dream’s, Sapnap’s voice had whispered, “Dream smells like ass anyway.”

George bit the inside of his cheek as Dream let go off his hand, taking a casual, almost bored, step forward as the broken army of L’Manberg arrived. George shoved the hand into his pocket, hating the way it felt broken without Dream’s grasp.

George watched as Wilbur walked forward, followed by Tommy, Fundy and Tubbo. Wilbur nodded at Dream stiffly, holding out a hand. Dream didn’t take it, merely glanced down at the taller man’s outstretched welcome before he gave a huff of amusement. The other three men (or boys would probably be more suitable, George thought) all were watching Eret as he stood to George’s right.

“You, stupid son of a bitch.” George couldn’t help but sigh as Tommy instantly erupted into rambling anger, pushing past Wilbur as he gestured a fist towards his former teammate. “I’ll kill you.”

“I saw the better deal, Tommy,” Eret said calmly. George ignored the confrontation happening beside him, instead keeping his gaze on Dream as he laughed, part of his face visibly amused through the broken mask.

_“I could try and fix it,” George suggested, voice light as Dream cradled the chipped mask in his hands. The blond man was sitting at the dining table, staring blankly down at his mask. Now part of his face would be visible. His left eye. The corner of his mouth. His scattering of freckles and the small scar that was pressed below his left eyebrow._

_"It’s not that bad,” George tried, wrapping his arms around Dream from behind, pressing his face into his neck. “I’m sure if we found something to make a glue, we could-”_

_“No,” Dream’s deep voice cut him off and George straightened his back, pulling himself away from Dream as the younger man placed the mask over his face. Somehow George found this much worse than when the mask covered all of Dream’s face. Now the two Dreams were bleeding together, George unable to separate the two in his mind. “I’ll keep it like this.”_

George looked at him now and realised that Wilbur was also watching Dream instead of Tommy and Eret. The taller man’s dark eyes were narrowed and calculating. And a swirl of surprise was hidden in there too, as he finally saw a glimpse of Dream’s face. George hated it.

His fists clenched in the secrecy of the stuffy pocket. He didn’t want these people seeing Dream. Didn’t like the way Wilbur kept blinking at him. Didn’t want _his_ Dream acting the role of _this_ Dream without the mask to keep that barrier up between the two. George didn’t like any of this.

“We trusted you!” Tommy was still shouting, and George managed to find it in himself to tear his gaze away from Dream to focus on the current situation at hand. “You make me sick!”

“Our declaration of independence is signed by a traitor.” That was the first time Wilbur had spoken, and his words were laced with not anger like his right-hand man, but tiredness. George almost felt bad for the guy. Maybe he would’ve, if he hadn’t kept glancing at Dream like that.

Eret’s throat bobbed at that, but he didn’t speak. “ _So_?” Dream asked, voice causing everyone to turn to face him. He just looked at Wilbur, and even though he had to look up to meet the older man’s eyes, his stature was so much taller.

“Come with me,” Wilbur said, stiff and stony voice contrasting to Dream’s, who’s words sounded like honey, even as he spat out threats. Dream just nodded, following after Wilbur without looking back.

And as soon as they were out of ear shot, the two men walking side by side into the distance for some privacy, Tommy was instantly at Eret’s throat. “I am going to rip out every single one of your-” the young boy started, twitching hands reaching out. George watched, sighing, as Sap stepped in front of the young boy, clicking his tongue in warning.

“I wouldn’t,” he said, that large, uncontrollable grin plastered over his face again, as Eret’s face behind him remained unwavering. Tommy’s nostrils flared as Sapnap placed a hand on his chest, before pushing him away with a flick of his finger. Tommy snarled, but that only made the fire in Sap’s eyes burn brighter. He was clearly itching for a fight. They all clearly were. But they weren’t here to fight. Not this time. They were here for Dream, and George wasn’t going to let Sapnap fuck that up by bashing Tommy’s skull in. So, he stood at the side as the rest of them bickered, hand fliting over the hilt of his sword, ready to intervene.

“They had the better deal,” Eret said again, voice steady.

“Oh, did they?” Tommy asked, rage spitting in his tone. “And is that what you care about? Is the better deal going to hug you at night? You, stupid son of a-” he cut himself off when Tubbo placed a hand on his shoulder, the two young boys falling back slightly. They shared a look between each other which ended with Tommy roughly shrugging the other boy’s hand off him, but he didn’t start anything else.

“You’re on the wrong side.” It took George a moment to realise the red-haired boy was speaking to him. He turned his head to face the group, frowning when he saw them all looking at him. “After all we talked about.”

George’s face flushed at that. Glancing over at Sap, George was met with a cast of surprise and confusion, the younger boy’s dark brows low as he watched him carefully. Fundy had come to him at the very start of the war, desperately begging for George to help them. They had no hope, the boy had begged. Both sides knew Dream would destroy them, annihilate them. And maybe his pained voice had stopped George for just a moment. Maybe his young and fearful face, painted in anguish, had made him reconsider his choices. But it had been for one fleeting second. And then he’d turned the boy away, threatening to slit his throat there and then.

“I never accepted your agreement,” George snarled, stalking over angrily to the boy. Stop talking, he tried to scream with his eyes. He needed this kid to stop fucking talking. He ignored Sap’s gaze burning into him, unsheathing his sword hastily. The boy flinched, inhaling a sharp breath as his eyes dropped down to the steel aimed at his chest.

“You should’ve been the spy. You should’ve told us about this.” Shut up. Shut up. Shut the fuck up. “Why are you on their side. They’re American, they don’t know what it’s like-”

“I wouldn’t ever have betrayed my family,” George hissed out, letting the sword drop down, feeling too heavy, too cumbersome in his hands. “I cannot.” Looking up, his heart fell into his gut when Sapnap refused to meet his eyes. The younger boy had his eyes trained on the ground, wind-swept hair covering his face as he continuously ran a flint over his fingers.

“Sapnap.” The sound of Tommy’s voice made Sap look up, head low, but he still refused to even look in George’s direction. How was he going to ever explain this?

“Hello,” Sap said, grin evident in his voice as he tossed the flint to Tommy. The young boy caught it in his hands, staring down at the dark material that stained his hands. Sap’s own fingers were caked in ash. “Are you happy with yourself?” Tommy asked, pocketing the flint.

“Honestly,” Sap started, blowing his cheeks out. “That was pretty amazing. I couldn’t be happier actually,” he added with a satisfied smile, riding on the high Tommy’s anger fed him. “Watching you guys try and cower in fear in that little trap?” He ended it with a whistle and a clap of his hands.

“War never changes,” Eret added, and George was the only one who caught the slight melancholy hint in his voice.

“Yeah it doesn’t,” Tommy snapped, blue eyes stormy. “For the pricks.” George watched as Sap roared with laughter, which only made Tommy scrunch up his face in vexation more. The younger boy opened his mouth to no doubt shout more about how much of a cock Eret was, when Dream and Wilbur appeared over the hill, walking back towards their respective sides.

It didn’t look like they were speaking, and from up here, George couldn’t make out what Dream’s expression was. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he tried to ignore the way Dream walked beside Wilbur.

_“Wait, what the fuck?” George said, fingers stilling on the glass bottle he was holding. They had just left Sap alone, the youngest boy needing a wound he’d gotten during the first battle of the day attended too. Dream and George had stayed with him until he’d fallen asleep, head shoved into a pillow, breathing soft and steady._

_“What?” Dream asked quickly, voice questioning as he looked around, scanning for danger. He frowned at George when he couldn’t find anything. “You’re fucking limping!” George exclaimed, dropping the bottle onto the table before he was kneeling down, grasping down at Dream’s right leg._

_“Oh. Yeah. That,” Dream sighed, trying to shuffle away from George. It was fruitless, George was already gripping onto the taller boy’s strong leg, muscles tight under his fingers. “Why didn’t you say anything, Dream?” George asked, pushing his trouser leg up, already panicking. The lump in his heart only grew when he saw Dream’s leg. It was a stab wound, and George couldn’t even tell how deep it was. He blinked in confusion, because Dream being injured didn’t really compute with George._

_Dream was…well, he was Dream. And Dream didn’t get injured. It had always been like he was above it, like he could simply step out of harm’s way. Dream was in a constant waltz with death, bony fingers constantly outstretched, trying desperately to snatch onto the man who easily evaded the trap every time._

_George got hurt. He got hurt all the fucking time. He was clumsy, always had been, constantly tripping over his own feet, rocks, tree roots. But Dream and Sap were always right behind him, casually holding onto his elbow before he decked it. And Sap, Sap liked running into danger with his eyes obnoxiously screwed shut. Sapnap was constantly coming home painted in blood. George had almost become desensitised to it, sometimes just rolling his eyes at Sapnap when he’d extend a twisted arm or sliced finger._

_But not Dream. He could leap off mountains into lakes, could run across branches like it was breathing, could fight like his sword was an extension of his soul. And he didn’t get hurt. Dream never got hurt. George had started to genuinely believe it was impossible. But here he was, flesh cut and kissed with bruising._

_The fact that Dream wasn’t actually a God. Wasn’t really an immortal warrior, a man carved from clay, had just shattered George. He blinked again._

_“George, it’s not that bad. And we had to deal with Sap, so I…” Dream trailed off when he realised George wasn’t speaking, the weight of the older man’s fingers gone from his leg. “George?” he asked, voice tentative as he knelt down, pressing a hand against his shoulder._

_George looked up with a wet, blotchy face. The man in front of him instantly paled, trying to bring George against his chest, but he shook his head, holding his arms out in resistance. “No. No. I’m mad at you,” he said between shuddering sobs. “I’m so fucking mad at you. You-we can’t-you can’t just ignore a fucking stab wound, Dream.”_

_“It’s not that-”_

_“Shut the hell up,” George snarled, narrowing his eyes at Dream. “You need to tell me when shit happens. You need to…you need to trust me, fuck. You need to stop almost fucking dying. I can’t- you can’t die, Dream. I wouldn’t be able to…_ Please _,” his voice broke on that last part and this time he didn’t stop Dream crushing him tightly against his chest._

_“I’m sorry.” George heard Dream say as he gripped onto his shirt. “I should’ve told you. I don’t know why I didn’t. That was stupid of me.”_

_“Yeah, it fucking was,” George agreed, sniffling as he pulled back to look at Dream’s face. He was met with an apologetic smile, and he looked so hopeful that George bit down the rest of his annoyance. “I’m sorry for reacting like that,” he muttered, shuddering slightly as Dream brushed some of his tears away, calloused fingers rough against his jaw. “I just-”_

_“It’s been a long day,” Dream nodded. George sighed, tiredness creeping up into his bones. It had been one hell of a day. Eret finally betraying L’Manberg. The two battles. Dream trading Wilbur for all of L’Manberg’s supplies. The promise of a negotiation tomorrow._

And now they had had their negotiations. Or maybe not, George thought as he watched Wilbur gesture with his head for his team to follow him, and the army of L’Manberg trailed down towards their walls. “What happened?” George instantly asked when Dream reached them. But the older boy didn’t speak for a minute, left eye narrowed as he just watched Wilbur and his friends trace back into their walls.

“Dream?” George breathed, slipping his hand into Dream’s before the taller man looked back at them. “I don’t think they’re giving up,” Dream finally sighed, and George felt him squeeze his hand. He squeezed back, smiling wistfully up at Dream as he subtly tugged George closer to him.

“Then we keep going until they don’t have a choice,” Sap said, unsheathing his sword with a satisfied hum. Eret nodded in agreement, and the two of them started stalking towards L’Manberg, weapons gleaming sinisterly in the light.

“We keep going,” George breathed when Dream didn’t move. Slowly, Dream nodded, his left eye swirling with too many emotions for George to pin down.

“We keep going,” Dream repeated, and George liked the way his words sounded in Dream’s voice. He liked the way everything sounded in Dream’s voice. They would keep going, he told himself as him and Dream followed Sap and Eret, fingers still intertwined. They would keep going, and they would win. And after they won, they would still keep going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 300 kudos omggg <3


	10. It's Cold and Hard and Petrified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Know thy self, know thy enemy. A thousand battles, a thousand victories."
> 
> Wilbur and Dream have changed over the past two years. Friendships buried, negotiations burn.

“I’m unarmed and obviously alone.”

The grass was wet. Dream was conscious with each step he took, blades of grass squashed under his feet. Beside him, Wilbur took massive strides, legs longer than Dream’s. Wilbur was the only one taller than Dream. He hated it. Hated how he was forced to tilt his head up to meet the other man’s eyes.

He glanced sideways quickly, noticing as Wilbur looked over his shoulder, back up to where the two teams stood on the hill. Dream didn’t look. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel George and Sap’s eyes burning holes into the back of his neck.

“I’m alone, but I’m very armed,” Dream replied, a sadistic grin dancing on his lips when Wilbur blinked down at the dark sword at Dream’s side. It was still slick with crusting blood, Dream electing to not wash it.

Wilbur looked sharply away, head facing forward before he shrugged. “That’s fine. I guess I’m not really in a bargaining position here.” Dream nodded in agreement; his hands clammy as he shoved them into his jean pockets. He had thrown on a sweater this morning, mind too focused on his plan to really think about what he was shoving on. He didn’t realise it was going to be so warm, but the sun was beating mercilessly down on him.

How the fuck was Wilbur wearing that dumbass coat? And he didn’t even seem uncomfortable in it, actually striding along the plains with an unwarranted air of confidence. Actually, all the awkwardness from when they stood with their men at their sides was gone, vanished from the man’s handsome face. The leadership act had fallen from Wilbur’s shoulders now he was alone with Dream, replaced with the cocky, sharp tongued man Dream had once called a friend.

_“I think I might be in love with him.” Dream blinked down at the bottle in his hand, throat bobbing violently._

_“No shit.” He snapped his head toward Wil, scowling deeply. “What?” Will asked, eyes wide at the look Dream was throwing him. “You give the boy a flower every time you fucking see him.” Will laughed, head shaking in amusement as he grabbed the glass bottle from Dream’s hands, taking a swig. He crinkled his nose when he pulled it away from his lips, hissing._

_“What do you think I should do?” Dream found himself asking, looking up at Will with wide eyes. Will’s face softened for a moment, leaning back in his chair as he contemplated it._

_They were sitting on the roof of Dream’s house, legs swinging off the side as they passed a bottle of rum back and forth between the two of them. “I don’t know, mate. Tell him, I guess.”_

_Dream hummed softly, not able to find any words to say. “What about you?” He finally asked, the silence too much after a while. “The girl. Fuck,” he shook his head, pressing his palms into his temples as he tried to remember her name. “Niki,” Will answered for him as he lay down on the tiled roof. “Wanna talk about it?” Dream asked, taking the bottle from Will’s outstretched hand. The taller boy just shook his head sleepily, eyes fluttering shut._

_“How come you never take the mask off?” Will asked suddenly. Dream blushed a violent crimson, but Will’s eyes were still shut so he couldn’t see._

_“I-uh…I don’t know,” Dream breathed, the lie shuddering out of his lips._

_“Liar,” Will laughed, slightly breathlessly as he folded his hands onto his chest. Dream watched as he fiddled with the yellow material, his own chest getting tangled up. Pushing his tongue into his cheek, Dream blinked down at the boy in front of him._

_He trusted Will. And it wasn’t like he was going to laugh at him. Or stop being his friend because he didn’t like the sight of his face._

_Dream glanced down before he reached up with his right hand and gingerly pulled the mask off of his face. He watched as Will opened his eyes, watched as they widened in surprise, confusion and then settled on something reminiscent of wistfulness. “No one told me how handsome you were, Dream,” he laughed, sun wrinkles screwing up as he pushed himself up onto his elbows, cocking his head at the blond boy._

_“Idiot,” Dream snorted, rolling his eyes._

_“It looks cool,” Will said after a minute of companionable silence, eyes snapping towards the long scar that snaked its way down the right side of his face, white against tanned skin. It slashed its way through freckles and dimples. Dream fucking hated it._

_“Sure,” he nodded anyway, not wanting to get into this conversation with Will right now. Didn’t ever want to get into this conversation with anyone. He watched Wil as Wil watched him, dark eyes flicking over the tiny scars littered across his jaw, the freckles spread across his face, peppered along his ears too._

_Will didn’t say anything else, picking up on Dream’s tense posture, and just dropped back down onto his back. Dream plopped himself down next to him. Free to look at all the stars in their glory now his mask was lying abandoned at his side._

_“Stop hogging the fucking bottle, mate.”_

Those words were said with fondness. With a underlaying of mutual respect, and maybe even love between two friends. The words Wilbur were saying to him now, two years later, were purely out of animosity.

“I can’t believe you would put up our own men against us. You had a spy on the inside this whole time.”

“All is fair in war,” Dream shrugged, realising he didn’t even know where they were going. They’d just sort of started walking in one direction, Dream letting Wilbur take the lead. The taller man was a step ahead of him. It let Dream glance over him. He’d changed a lot in the past two years.

His hair was longer, soft brown waves curling to the bottom of his neck. Lately, it was looking like a shitty bird’s nest. His skin was milky and pale, and his cheekbones were too high. He looked like shit. Dream absently wondered if he also looked a lot more fucked up than he had two years ago.

“And _love_.” Dream couldn’t quite tell if that was meant to be a jibe, but he pressed his lips into a firm line anyway. By the way Wilbur smirked at himself, Dream guessed that yes, it was meant to be an insult. Even the mere _idea_ of George threatened to send him spiralling, so Dream pushed him from his mind and kept walking.

“That’s true. That’s true,” he acknowledged, voice coming out rough. “Did you see it coming?” he asked as he realised, they were now walking along the wooden path, leading them towards the fallen embassy.

“No,” Wilbur admitted, setting off a feeling of satisfaction through Dream. “I was curious about the wooden button on the floor though. We were winning, as well. We were pushing you back, that’s the worst part,” he said this part with a cocky grin, glancing over his shoulder to arch an eyebrow at Dream.

“Well,” he started, brows lowering as he met Wilbur’s sparkling eyes. “We only retreated because we knew we had the ambush.”

“Oh, okay,” Wilbur snorted, and it sounded dangerously like Wilbur from two years ago. When he would laugh with Dream as they trained, and Dream beat him every single time. When they would go on excursions and Wilbur would demand they stop every time they came across an animal, laughing when Dream’s patience would snap, and he’d threaten to stab the animal if they didn’t get a move on.

“I’d like to see you fire up that tower then,” Wilbur continued. “You didn’t have enough range on it. You would’ve had to retreat in any situation.” Dream just shook his head, locking his jaw when the two of them paused at the embassy. The destruction looked a lot worse now, when it was just them standing here.

A tendril of guilt threatened to unfurl, but it dissipated as Dream clenched his fingers into fists. He had done what he had had to. And he’d do it again.

“Dream.” He turned to face Wilbur, leaning against part of a broken fence. Wilbur stood tall in front of him, all president like in his stupid fucking coat. Dream leant his elbows against the fence, folding one ankle in front of the other. He had perfected the act of cold indifference years ago.

“When you imprisoned our men, slayed us and you…your men did great wrongs against my people, and I let it go,” Wilbur said, raking hands through his dark hair. “I let it slide on the condition we’d have emancipation from you, we’d have our freedom.” He bit out the last word, like it burned his mouth to say. “Obviously, this didn’t sit well with you. You didn’t like the fact that I didn’t whitelist you in my town. That’s my town over there, see that right there? That’s mine.” The cockiness in his voice made Dream’s shoulders tense. He was getting too comfortable. Somehow forgetting that Dream could crush them with a sweep of his hand if he wanted to.

“I’d disagree,” he drawled out lazily, pale green eyes narrowing slightly.

“Well, _you_ can think that,” Wilbur shrugged and Dream bit down a frustrated growl. “But it remains, right now, you’re not whitelisted.” Like he gave a shit. Actually, no. He didn’t need to be fucking whitelisted. L’Manberg was still on his fucking land.

“Listen, Dream. We’ve suffered a lot on both sides. We’ve both suffered great losses. And I’m here to make a negotiation with you.”

He paused for a moment, running his tongue over his teeth. It wouldn’t hurt to hear what he had to say. “Okay,” he nodded, slowly pushing himself up off of the fence so he was standing with his back straight.

“We don’t wish for bloodshed; we don’t wish for war. We don’t wish to show our power in anyway, we just want freedom. Emancipation, independence.” Dream let out a slow sigh, clicking his tongue as he walked around Wilbur, arms folded as he stared at the ruins in front of them. His exposed eye made direct contact with Wilbur as he came up beside him, the taller man’s throat bobbing anxiously.

“Would you like to know what _I_ want, Wilbur?” Dream asked, gesturing forwards towards the craters in the ground. The grass was blackened, now just a sea of dirt and rubble. It was beautiful. It was a beautiful example of what he could do.

“What do you want, Dream?” Wilbur asked, and it almost sounded like he was wondering what Dream wanted for lunch that day.

But Dream didn’t want Wilbur to make him pasta anymore. Dream wanted him to submit. And if he kept pushing him with that cocky fucking grin, Dream wanted his head on a spike. He wanted every single one of them to submit. And there was no other option.

“White flags. I want white flags up inside your land.” He turned towards Wilbur once he was done speaking, brows lowered, and jaw clenched.

“And it can be _my_ land?” Wilbur asked, biting his bottom lip. He always did that. Was why his lips were chapped and red. Bad habit. Like how Dream bit at the skin around his nails. He hated that he knew that about Wilbur. It just made it all so much harder than it needed to be. Made him fucking hesitate every time he went to bring down his sword.

“ _No_ ,” he snarled, eyes flashing with impatience. “I want white flags up in surrender.”

Wilbur seemed to consider this, fingers tapping along his jaw. Then he sighed sadly, shrugging like this was a mild inconvenience. Dream didn’t know why Wilbur was fucking about like this. Why he was trying to push his buttons. He had a lot more to lose than Dream had. And Dream would make fucking sure he took every single thing that mattered to L’Manberg and burned it into ash. “It appears we’re at an impass,” Wilbur finally said, smiling politely down at Dream.

Something in him snapped at that smile.

“Right, I’ll tell you this,” he started, resisting the urge to stamp his foot. “If that doesn’t happen in the next thirty minutes, I will blow up all of L’Manberg.”

Wilbur had the audacity to look at him incredulously. “You don’t have the power or the capacity to blow up L’Manberg.”

“Okay,” Dream shrugged, high collar itching at his neck. “Let’s go there together. Now.” Wilbur at least paled at that, eyes widening in fear slightly.

“What have you done, Dream?” he asked quietly, voice bordering on pleading. Good. He would beg. They’d all fucking beg.

He ignored Wilbur’s question, instead storming forward back towards his team. “I will ask you one last time when we get to L’Manberg,” he warned Wilbur. “Preferably in front of everybody. All of the traitors.” He wanted them all to feel the shame and embarrassment of surrender. Of begging for him to not crush everything in his palm.

“Traitors. Traitors?” Wilbur barked out, voice offended. “ _Revolutionaries_.” Dream rolled his eyes at that. Pathetic is what they all were. “You can call us whatever you want with your flicking tongue, but it means nothing. You little…lizard snake thing.”

“What?” Dream paused slightly, glaring at Wilbur in confusion. What the fuck? “Little _what_?” he hissed, voice laced in annoyance as Wilbur smirked, pushing past him despite the fact they were currently walking back for Dream to blow up his home.

“You heard me,” Wilbur said before they reached the bottom of the hill. “I’ll see you in there, then,” he said before he spun on his heels and gestured for his team to follow him, not even letting Dream speak. He gritted his teeth.

Oh, they’d be surrendering. They would be begging, heads hanging and crying for their lives. Dream would show Wilbur what a little fucking lizard snake thing could do to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it was so short, just really wanted to get this one out


	11. I'm Carving Through a Letter Bomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do not engage an enemy more powerful than you. And if it is unavoidable and you do have to engage, then make sure you engage it on your terms, not on your enemy’s terms.”
> 
> So this is what defeat feels like.

Tubbo didn’t consider himself a brave person. Not like Tommy, at least. He thought his friend was reckless and impulsive, and very, very loud. But no one could take away the fact he was almost insufferably brave.

And maybe that had started to rub off on Tubbo, because as he stood with his family, Dream glaring down at him, he didn’t feel fear. He felt untouchable, because what did they have to lose? They’d already lost all their shit, but they had each other and that was all they really needed.

Standing at Tommy’s side, Tubbo felt brave.

“Dream’s given us an ultimatum,” Wilbur finally spoke, glancing down the line of his friends. His face was a cast of sombreness, but Tubbo could see the glint in his dark eyes. He watched as Will snapped his head back to face Dream, lip curling. “He has said, that if we do not rescind our ownership of this land, then we-”

A sharp sigh cut Will off and all four of them looked to Dream. The man stood there in front of them; arms folded with his head tilted. He looked impatient, like with every word Will spoke the tether on his anger was slipping. And everyone already knew, Tubbo included, that the tether wasn’t ever really that tight to begin with.

“I will light this piece of tnt,” Dream said, eye narrowed. The chipped mask unnerved Tubbo. He couldn’t remember how he’d pictured Dream’s face in his head before actually seeing part of it. But it definitely wasn’t accurate.

The pale, almost saturated, green eyes was a shock. So were the thousands of freckles and the tanned skin. He almost looked nice. Almost looked completely and utterly normal. But then Tubbo had noticed the scars that littered his chin, testament to who Dream was and what he’d done in his life. If it wasn’t for the battle scars which matched the calloused fingers, Dream would’ve looked like a normal twenty-year old guy. Instead he looked like their reckoning.

But Tubbo wasn’t scared. Not even as Dream threw down an explosive, lighter clicking tauntingly in his hands. Not even as George stood behind him, bow aimed at Will, blue eyes narrowed.

“Now gentlemen,” Will said, seemingly unfazed by Dream and his clenched jaw as he turned to look at the men of L'Manberg. “I think you will agree with me when I say, independence or death.” Tubbo’s throat bobbed at that. He didn’t want to die, he wanted to keep fighting. Wanted to keep fighting because he knew they’d win. They had to win.

Tubbo glanced up at Tommy, biting his lip as he watched his best friend nod in agreement with Will. Tommy’s face was unmoving, pure determination painting his eyes as he stared down Dream. The older man wasn't even looking in Tommy's direction, instead just slowly lighting and extinguishing the lighter. “If we get no revolution, then we want nothing. We would rather die.” He said it so calmly, so unnervingly that Tubbo had to blink a couple of times, realising what they were proclaiming. “And that is our final word. You can blow up one piece of tnt in our doors, it means nothing to us.”

Tubbo watched as Dream clicked his tongue in what seemed like a warning, shrugging his shoulders as if to say _I warned you_. Then he took a step back, carelessly shoving his friends back too. Beside him, Tommy barked out a laugh at that, pointing as George and Sapnap stumbled backwards. “Look at him punching around his _goons_.”

Sapnap’s eyes lit up in anger at that, and he took a step forward, arm reaching out as if to strangle Tommy, when Dream dropped the lighter. As the fire spread towards the explosive, Dream merely tugged Sapnap back, as if pulling on a dog’s leash.

“Get back, get back,” Will sighed, gesturing for them to follow him. Tubbo took a step backwards, following Tommy’s lead as the taller boy leapt backwards, a shit-eating grin dancing on his face. “Don’t let this hurt you,” he rolled his eyes, gesturing to the lone explosive.

Dream’s feral smirk was the last thing Tubbo saw before everything went to shit.

Screams ringing in fear and panic. Thrown back by the impact of the tnt blowing up to reveal about thirty more bombs hidden under the ground. Sobs of frustrated pain as he felt his stitches rip open one by one, skin tearing all over again. Fire ripping across the grass in a starving, angry hiss. Ears ringing, only sound, the grating blasts. Trees fell, dirt and rubble flying into his face painfully.

He was vaguely aware of something tugging on his wrist, and then he was falling, meeting water face first. Spluttering, Tubbo came up to the surface, his mouth forming a small ‘o’ shape as he desperately scanned the area. It was a mess. L’Manberg had been ripped apart, root by root. There was nothing left but destruction. The trees, the flowers, gone. Everything was gone. Dream had done it again. Burned down their home. They shouldn't have pushed him. 

“What happened? What happened?” Tubbo kept asking, words tumbling from his lips like a prayer as he felt arms around his waist, tugging him away from the explosions that were still happening. “What happened?” He couldn’t even hear his own voice, but he kept forcing the words out. They were still in the water, and Tubbo’s thick coat was threatening to drag him down, and if it wasn’t for the grasp on his torso, he thought he maybe would let the water grab at his face.

His shoulder was crying out in dreadful pain, and his dark blood was mixing in with the dirt in the lake. As he tried desperately to keep his head above water, everything else feeling too heavy, the sense of everything good in the world crying out sounded over and over in Tubbo’s mind. He was drowning in a whirlpool of horror as the hoarse howl of his friends resounded around his head.

Finally figuring out his bearings, Tubbo blinked as Will came into focus in front of him. He thought Will was calling his name, but he wasn’t really sure. The only thing he could really hear was the ringing in his ears. Will was clinging onto Tubbo and he shuddered in the older man’s grasp as he tugged him out of the water and into the rubble of the van.

Will straightened up, and Tubbo watched him speak, lips forming harsh words. He couldn't hear him, and Will tore his gaze away from the boy. His dark brows were furrowed, and he was pointing, pointing at something in the van. Tommy leapt past Tubbo in a blur of soaking navy and matted blond, scrambling up into the van. Tubbo blinked, his friends around him a panicky hurricane of terror. Tubbo just leaned against a large boulder of rubble, head tilting towards where the entrance to L’Manberg had once stood. The dark stone walls were now nothing but rubble. The ash reflected in Tubbo’s eyes as his tears mixed with the water and blood he’d rubbed onto his face.

Time moved slowly as he took in the scene in front of him. Dream stood in the same spot at the entrance. He hadn’t even moved as L’Manberg had fallen around him. Sapnap and George stood behind him, grinning ear to ear as Sapnap pulled George into a tight side-hug, watching as Tubbo and his family scrambled around desperately. The raven-haired boy roared with victory, wrapping his arms around his friend who was chuckling softly to himself, head shaking. Eret off to the side, leaning against the wall. Lowering his glasses, he looked directly at Tubbo, a smirk on his lips.

Tubbo didn’t even have the strength to be angry. He just felt defeated, lost. He was also confused as he watched the men bask in his destruction, in his pain. Not that it even mattered anymore. This was it. This was the end. Dream stood in front of a pillar of irate smoke and dust, crackling flames still breaking out across the landscape of destruction. He wasn’t laughing like his friends behind him. He wasn’t smirking, satisfied, like Eret. No, he just stood there, face frowning.

Ash coated his blond hair and it was only when his eyes dropped towards Tubbo did the younger boy realise more of Dream’s mask had cracked in the explosion, revealing two harsh eyes, blinking at him from across the battlefield. But before Tubbo could do anything but stare, his mouth parted in shock, he felt someone pulling on him. He let himself be led away by Fundy, both of them jumping into the water again.

They followed Tommy, the four of them swimming down a hole in the ground before they came to a tunnel of stone. Tubbo fell to his knees, the pain from his wound fully kicking in now. “When did you make this?” Will's voice echoed around the chamber. 

Tubbo looked up, shuddering as Will looked around, brows raised in awe. Tommy just shook his head and gestured for Will to follow the tunnel down. Then he knelt down, helping Tubbo up to his feet before wrapping an arm around his waist. Tubbo was about to protest and tell Tommy he could walk by himself when he stumbled forward, breathing hitching before Tommy caught him.

Despite their situation, Tommy laughed. It was a harsh sound, clearly forced, but it made Tubbo smile anyway, and he gingerly wrapped his arm around Tommy’s shoulder, letting his brother lead the way.

He was quiet until they reached some sort of makeshift bunker at the end of the tunnel, covered in obsidian. Tommy softly dropped Tubbo onto a chest, and the boy winced as he sat down, hand against his shoulder. He watched as Tommy holed them in. They were safe, he tried to tell himself. Repeating it over and over in his head. They were safe now, they hadn’t died. They hadn’t died. But the feeling of pure terror in his gut didn’t disappear.

Maybe Tubbo wasn’t as brave as he’d thought.

“I’ve got the declaration,” Tommy declared, breaking the still air as he creaked the ender chest open. “I don’t think we can win this.”

Tubbo frowned and watched as Will and Fundy shared a concerned look. Tommy had never said anything like that before. He was…he was Tommy, he was the one with the blind hope that they would win this war, would finally win their independence. “Tommy-” Will started, taking a step towards the boy. But Tommy turned around before Will could place a comforting hand on his shoulder, jaw clenched and eyes wild.

His hair was soaking, a wet mop of blond on his head, and his clothes were torn and slightly blackened. But his face was bright. “You wanna know what we have left Tubbo?” Tommy asked as he walked over to his friend, grabbing his hands in his. His face was still promising, still smiling widely as he pulled something out of one of the chests.

“My friends, we have each other.” Tommy looked to Will as he said that, and the older man’s face was painted in wretched wistfulness as Tommy slotted the disc he was holding into the jukebox. Tubbo had the sudden urge to just sob as the familiar sound of cat started playing softly. He buried his face in his scratched-up hands, bringing his knees to his chest as he sat.

Fundy dropped down onto the chest beside him, pulling Tubbo into a comforting hug. It didn’t really work. The ringing still sounded in his ears; his shoulder still screamed out with every shuddering breath he took, and his damp clothes were starting to feel like a second skin.

“Now in this last moment between us…” Tommy started, glancing around the room at the three men around him. “I’m really not sure how much time we have left. Any last words?” he asked, voice laughing but face crumpling. Tubbo appreciated the attempt at humour, always attempted Tommy trying to lighten the mood, but the words just came out broken.

“This was kind of a last plan bunker,” he explained, kicking at the solid ground with his boots. “I planned to majestically mine it and Wilbur goes, _oh that was so cool of you, thank you_.”

“Will, is this the part where you pull out a sly last move?” Fundy asked, voice still hopeful as he tightened his grip on Tubbo. The younger boy looked up, eyes wide as he looked to Will, to their leader. A small smile danced on his lips. Will was smart. Smarter than maybe anyone he knew. L’Manberg couldn’t beat the Dreamteam. But maybe Will could beat Dream. He had to have something left.

“Listen,” Will said, falling back against the wall as he lifted his hat off of his head. “There is no sly last move.” Tubbo felt all the walls cave in on them as he looked up at Will’s broken eyes. “Basically, we have such a lower opportunity here, that we probably need to accept the conditions of surrender. Just so we can save any more bloodshed, any more destruction of our land.”

Tubbo let his head hang, fingers digging into his matted hair. “I’d be a bad general if I didn’t look for conditions of surrender,” he breathed, voice wavering slightly. Tubbo let out a soft exhale of defeat as he watched Tommy’s fingers clench and unclench from where he stood.

“Tommy, I want you to come with me to meet with Dream,” Will said. Tubbo and Fundy both looked up at that, eyes widening in surprise. “Okay,” Tommy squeaked out, fingers stilling at his side. He sounded scared. Tubbo’s heart sank. If Tommy sounded scared, well…there was no denying that this was it. This was the end.

“And I want you to make sure you don’t run your mouth.” Will now spoke with warning lacing his voice, grabbing Tommy’s shoulder tight with one hand and pointing his index finger sharply into his chest with the other. Tommy gulped before he nodded, meeting Will’s eyes.

Tubbo stilled where he sat, and he noticed as Fundy held his breath. Will hadn’t ever looked this serious before. He somehow now looked ten years older as he arched a brow at Tommy, lips in a firm line as he glared down at him. “No challenging Dream on his honour. None of that."

Tommy just nodded, face defeated and eyes watering. “Gentlemen, it has been an honour,” he said to Fundy and Tubbo when Will let go off him, the older man stalking out of the tunnel. Fundy made to follow, but Tubbo grabbed onto Tommy’s hands, ignoring the fact they were both shaking. Tommy didn't mention it either, just blinked down at their joined hands.

It reminded Tubbo of when Tommy had broken his arm, all those years ago, they must've been about ten. Tommy had demanded they climb trees, ignoring Tubbo's concerned objections. And then he'd fallen. And he'd broken his arm. And he'd begged Tubbo to not tell anyone. That if they just got home, Tommy could deal with it himself. He couldn't.

Tommy had that same look in his eyes now. Stoic and proud, unwavering in his position. Tubbo knew he'd end up with much worse than a broken arm. 

“Don’t be an idiot, Tommy,” Tubbo begged. Tommy smiled sadly before he shook his head. His damp hair was curling dry, and the graze on his cheek had stopped bleeding.

“I take offence to that,” he tried to laugh, voice wavering awkwardly. Tubbo didn’t join in the act, frowning deeply.

“Promise me,” he said, voice as stern as he could muster. Tommy’s face fell, but he nodded all the same, hand on Tubbo’s good shoulder.

“I promise.”


	12. Instead of Being Sixteen and Burning up a Bible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Who wishes to fight must first count the cost."
> 
> Everything crumbles to the ground as Tommy's voice rings out across the barren landscape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh I loveeee writing bitch boy Dream here we go y'all

“Hello Dream,” Will spoke tightly, still not mentally prepared for this conversation. It had been weeks of terror-filled nights, bloodied bandages, torn muscles and cracked trust. And for what? To surrender to Dream?

To drop to his knees in front of this tyrant and beg, plead, to keep his life?

He’d do it. Of course he would. For the men who stood a step behind him, standing as tall as they could. They wouldn’t hang their heads. Wouldn’t carry themselves in shame. They’d fought valiantly. Fought better than Will could’ve expected from a ragtag army. And he loved them all the more for it.

The four men of L’Manberg stood, uniforms still damp from the fight hours before. Dream was lounging on a boulder in front of them, looking dangerously like a lion sprawled out as he tossed a coin from hand to hand, his long fingers moving nimbly in the air. One leg was bent, head balanced on his knee, the other leg swinging in the air as he glanced over the four men in front of him. He’d discarded his armour, only dressed in cuffed jeans and a hideous green sweater. But bloodstains covered him completely, darkened crimson swiped lazily across his skin. If Will wasn’t in the middle of asking for surrender, he’d have crinkled his nose at it in disgust.

The other two usual suspects were behind him, Sapnap setting fire to a book page by page, completely ignoring the scene unfolding in front of him. George was sitting at Dream’s side, eyes narrowed at Will specifically. And of course, Eret and Punz were standing further back, swords in hand. Maybe they’d kill the four of them anyway. Maybe Dream would spit in Will’s face, roll his eyes and demand their execution. Will wouldn’t put it past him. 

“Everyone’s here,” Dream finally spoke, sounding slightly disappointed. As if he didn’t expect all of them to make it out of his ambush at their walls. His green eyes were focused on Tommy, who stood fidgeting at Will’s side. He was surprised that the younger boy had managed to keep his mouth shut for this long. It had been two minutes already and the most Tommy had done was scoff when Dream had clapped his hands in childlike glee when they’d entered the proximity.

“My men will stay quiet, apart from me and Tommy,” Will acknowledged, ignoring the slight quip as the man on the rock tilted his head in vexation. “Look, Dream, I’m here to negotiate surrender,” he got the words out firmly, his voice not betraying the antagonism in his gut.

“Okay,” Dream shrugged, continuing to toss the coin from hand to hand. Will couldn’t tell if it was purely an act of boredom or if the man in front of him really couldn’t give less of a shit. It pissed him off either way. Dream had been his friend before all of this. George had been too. And this is what it had come to. 

Will took a step forward, hands clasped behind his back. “I’d say we fought well. Yes?”

Dream hummed in amusement, glancing at George with a smirk before he turned back to Will, Dream’s teeth shinning back at him as the younger boy snorted. “You could say that.”

“What do you mean you could say that?” Will protested, letting his annoyance slip through the cracks as his pretence of indifference fell. Dream just laughed, the soft sound a contrast to the bloody fingerprint on his jaw.

“ _You-_ ” Tommy hissed from beside Will, taking a step forward, scowling at Dream. Will’s arm moved forward, ready to pull Tommy back, but the younger boy managed to collect himself before Will had to. He smiled to himself, arm falling back to his side as Tommy fell silent. The boy had grown up. It was a funny sight, watching Tommy hold his head high and bite back his anger.

Will took another step forward, folding his arms as he narrowed his eyes at Dream. “What do you mean you _could_ say that?” he pressed, accent thick as his voice lowered in slow boiling fury.

“You fought well with how much you were against,” Dream sighed, rolling his eyes. Will didn’t like that he could almost see all of the man’s face through the cracked and chipped mask. It made it harder to ignore this was the same man he’d once held close in his heart. “You did have a _massive_ disadvantage,” he added, gesturing to himself as he smirked up on that fucking boulder.

“We fought incredibly well. You egotistical-” Tommy snapped, fingers clenching into tight fists. Will didn’t even bother telling him to stand down, he was right about this at least.

“You _fought incredibly well_ ,” Dream agreed, mimicking Tommy’s voice. Will frowned as he watched Dream push himself up, swinging his legs over so he was sitting up straight. He leant forward, folding his arms into himself as he glowered down at Tommy. “We just fought _better_.”

“Dream,” Tommy snarled, voice strained. “You know what? Why don’t we fight right now?” Will’s heart slipped slightly as those words sunk in. He tried to reach out, tried to shake some sense into the young boy, but Tommy was already stalking forward, feet stamping against the solid ground. Will felt like the earth underneath him was about to swallow him up. 

“ _Tommy_ ,” Will warned, throat bobbing.

“Why don’t we one versus one?” Tommy kept going, not noticing the slow, feral smile that was tugging on Dream’s lips. “Why don’t we have a little bow duel? One on one. A one-man showdown?” Nope. This had gone too far for Will’s liking. He stormed forward, pulling Tommy back by the collar as he glared down at the boy.

“Tommy, your passion will get you _nowhere_ ,” Will hissed, shaking his head stiffly as he begged Tommy with his eyes to shut his goddamn mouth. But Tommy just struggled in his hold, pointing his finger at Dream. “You egotistical son of a bitch. You… stupid bastard!” Will growled, shoving Tommy behind him as he turned to Dream. He put on a cast of plead, begging anyone above that would listen to please, for fucks sake, let Dream pick up on his signals here.

“We may have had our differences, Dream. But I promise you, this man does not speak for me,” Will said, inhaling sharply as he watched as Dream’s pale eyes flicked from Tommy to Will. Dream wouldn’t. Tommy was a child. Will knew Dream wanted to win, wanted victory, but he already had it, right? He wouldn’t accept Tommy’s ridiculous challenge. And if Will could just get Tommy to clamp his fucking mouth shut, maybe-

“Dream, let’s duel. Let’s one versus one. You’ve blown up all of our shit, Dream. What do you have to lose? I don’t care, let’s do it in front of everyone.” Tommy’s words spilled out of his mouth like bullets, tearing Will apart with each word.

“What was the one thing I asked, Tommy?” Will asked, voice quiet but unyielding. He gripped onto Tommy’s shoulder tightly, fingers digging in in warning.

“Will,” Tommy said softly, eyes wide as he stared up at him. “You know I’ve got to do this.” Will squeezed his eyes shut, head shaking. But before he could speak, an intrigued voice was intoning his biggest fears.

“What’s the details of this 'one on one'?”

Will snapped his eyes open to see Tommy shrugging his hand off and walking up to Dream, spindly arms stiff at his sides. Dream just looked down at him, running his tongue over his teeth. Like Tommy was his prey. Like he was already lying dead in front of him.

“Harming potion…” Tommy trailed off when an arrow whizzed past him, only just managing to scramble out of the way. “Stop shooting, you’ve already won,” he hissed, scowling at Sapnap. The dark-haired boy was smirking, shrugging in mock innocence as he flicked his fingers against the crossbow in his hands.

“ _Guys_ ,” Dream hissed in warning, head glancing over his shoulder at his team. Sap rolled his eyes and dropped the bow into his lap but didn’t say anything.

“Harming potion. Bow duel. Ten paces,” Tommy continued. Will didn’t miss the way his voice broke.

“ _Ten paces_ ,” Dream mocked, teeth biting his bottom lip. An echo of laughter surrounded him as the men behind him laughed too. They all laughed bar George, who was watching the scene unfold with badly hidden horror painting his sharp features.

“We shoot each other,” Tommy finished, brows lowered.

“What happens when I win?” Dream sighed, leaning backwards as he threw one leg over the other, tapping the side of the rock with his fingers.

“If we win… listen Dream,” Tommy sighed. “I know what you want. You want us all to bow to you, to cower down. But that isn’t going to happen. So, let’s call it here. With me and you. A duel.” Will hated how confident he sounded. Hated the way Tommy had already made his mind up about this. Because he knew when Tommy had set his mind to something, there was absolutely nothing he could do. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.

“Tommy, we need you alive,” Will begged, gripping his coat, needing to do something with his hands. “This isn’t worth it.”

“Wilbur, I’ve got to do this.” Fortitude flashed over Tommy’s bright eyes, and if it wasn’t for the scars that highlighted his soft face, not fully grown in yet, and the way his voice leapt up an octave, maybe Will would’ve believed him.

“Tommy, your life is worth more than the revolution.”

“Will, look around us. For the independence.” Will clenched his jaw as he glanced North, L’Manberg’s thick walls protruding in the horizon. He ignored Tubbo and Fundy, who were both clinging onto each other, heads shaking in disbelief. Inhaling shakily, Will turned to face Dream.

“This man does not speak for me, Dream. But if this is something you’re willing to do. And Tommy’s willing to do. I’ll let it happen.” He held back frustrated tears, holding his breath as he watched Tommy burst into action.

“Right here,” the boy laughed, gesturing to the land around them. “You got poison?” He asked no one in particular, glancing around with a grin plastered on his face. “What are the terms?” he blinked, turning to look up at Dream again. Will wasn’t sure he was breathing properly. He thought that maybe he had actually died in the explosion, and this was some sort of personal hell he was going to be forced to live through.

No. No, he couldn’t think like that. Tommy was competent. This wasn’t a death sentence. Not yet. Please God, not yet. 

“The terms are this,” Dream started, jumping down from the rock, stalking towards Tommy. “If you win, then you can have independence, okay?" The man even had the audacity to smirk as he said it, like it was impossible Tommy could even stand a chance of winning. "If you lose, you don’t get independence, and I get mellohi.”

“The disc,” Tommy breathed, shoulders stiffening before he quickly glanced over his shoulder, meeting Will’s eyes. Before he could do anything, before he could drop to his knees and beg Dream to back out of this ridiculous duel, Tommy looked towards Fundy and Tubbo, teeth gritted in willpower. Then he turned back to Dream, and Will felt himself die inside a little when Tommy spoke again. “ _Deal_.”

“Okay,” Dream nodded, clicking his tongue. Will’s breathing flared as he watched the two shake hands. Tommy’s hand looked impossibly small in Dream’s. Pale, soft fingers against lean, scarred ones.

“Tomorrow at sundown.”

*

Will found Tommy in the embassy. The boy was sitting on a battered brick wall, tightly clutching a torch. The orange flame sent shadows dancing across Tommy’s frail face, lighting his sunken eyes.

It wasn’t until Will sat down beside him, lightly bumping the boy’s foot with his own, did he realise they were sitting on the ruins of the shed Schlatt had left behind. Will remembered the last time they were here. When he’d told a restless Tommy, it would all be okay. Even then, even when he’d believed it, it had come out strained and broken. Saying it now would just be laughable.

“Are you pissed off?” Tommy breathed after a moment of silence, the night air carrying away the feeble words into the broken pieces of wall and charred earth. He knew why Tommy was asking. Tubbo had refused to speak to Tommy after Dream and the others had left. Will had never seen the young boy that furious before. He hadn't really realised Tubbo had the capacity to be that enraged. He'd been slightly terrified for Tommy as he'd watched Tubbo stare him down. 

“ _Why_?” Tubbo had cried out, tears clinging to his jaw as he’d grasped onto Tommy’s sleeves, face painted in anguish.

“It’s the only way we can win this thing,” Tommy had shrugged, and although he’d smiled, pretended everything was alright, the way his eyes had refused to meet any of theirs had confirmed what the rest of them were thinking. Tommy was terrified.

“He is going to _kill you_ , Tommy,” Tubbo had breathed out, jaw trembling. “You have to call this off, Will,” he’d begged, turning to the older man with wide eyes. Wilbur hadn’t been able to force any words out. There was nothing he could’ve said to comfort the boy as he clung to his best friend. His best friend who Tubbo had already decided was dead. It was hard for Wilbur to not see Tommy in that light too.

To not already see the arrow buried into his neck.

When Tommy had shrugged Tubbo off of him and said he was going through with the duel, and that none of them could do anything about it, Tubbo had stormed off, his whole body shaking with a horrible mix of fury and terror, as he ran back to L’Manberg. Fundy had trailed after him wordlessly, hands clenched in his auburn hair as he shakes his head over and over again. As if he could reverse time by hoping hard enough. 

Will had watched as Tommy had attempted to speak to Tubbo just before the brunet rolled into bed. But Tubbo had just brought his blanket up over his head, leaving Tommy with nothing but deafening silence.

“This is for independence,” Will finally said, pushing his tongue into his cheek. “Don’t take this lightly, Tommy. This means a lot.” The younger boy nodded, eyes trained on his lap as his knees jolted.

“What happens if I miss, Wilbur?” he asked, quickly looking up to meet Will’s soft eyes. “What happens if I miss?”

He had no idea what he was meant to say to that. How was he supposed to tell a sixteen year old that he was probably not going to make it out alive tomorrow?

“Tommy, this was your condition,” he tried to keep his voice steady. Maybe if he just acted like this wasn’t a big deal, if he acted like it wasn’t bothering him, Tommy wouldn’t be so scared. If he was scared, he definitely wouldn’t succeed. No, Will needed Tommy to be confident. Borderline cocky. Arrogant. Will needed Tommy to want to prove himself. Tommy needed to muster up that angry, inextinguishable flame in his gut that Will knew he had.

“I told you, your passion and your fire and your heart, it’s brilliant for the war but its not good in these situations.” Will sighed, shaking his head as he purposefully laced his voice in disappointment. He bit back a grin as he watched Tommy’s eyes light up. “Oh my gosh. You’ve really-you’ve really got yourself in a mess,” he laughed pitifully, raking a hand through his hair. Tommy’s knees stopped jolting beside him.

“Do I shoot him will or do I aim for the skies?” Tommy asked, voice no longer shaking. He clenched the torch tight in his fingers, the flame crackling irritably.

“Tommy, I want you…I want you to do whatever your heart says you should do.” Will placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, smiling softly at him. I know you can do it; he willed his eyes to say. _You just need to know it too, Tommy._

“Alright.” The younger boy nodded, letting out a loose exhale before he rolled his shoulders back.

“Just meet him face to face.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 400 kudos poggers :D
> 
> so the next two chapters (last two chapters :0 ) should probably be pretty longish (I hope) so they might take a couple days since ive got school and the lnat and such
> 
> just wanted to give a massive fucking thank you to all the support y'all have given me <3


	13. Follow me Into the Endless Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you wait by the river long enough, the bodies of your enemies will float by.”
> 
> Sundown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: vomit, graphic descriptions of violence and death, angst
> 
> lots and lots of angst
> 
> 7k of angst
> 
> remember I said angst, yeah Dream gets properly fucked up this chapter I didn't even realise until now damn

The morning air was so fresh, it was suffocating.

Eret stood on the wooden path, air tight around his neck, heavy on his shoulders, pressing down. So, this is what it had come down to. One final fight.

His slow breaths blew wistfully, hanging in the air until they faded into nothingness. The path under him was steady, the soft kisses of the pond’s waves lapping at the wooden panels. Someone was going to die. On this path.

Running his hands through his hair, Eret started to walk up and down the path. Wood solid under his feet. His shoes clicked harshly against the wood, in tune with the crying of the early morning birds, lamenting their hymns. Someone was going to die here today. But he had made it.

He was alive, solid and untouchable as he paced. He was breathing, and although each new breath felt like another blade being pressed against his heart, steel nicking each vein individually, he relished each new breath.

Someone would die here today, and there would be outrage from whichever side. The trees cowered away as Eret strode past them, leaves rustling and hissing at him, branches waving accusingly. Someone would die here today, and there would be outrage, but not from Eret. The pond stilled with each of Eret’s steps, refusing to acknowledge the presence of the man more snake than human. Someone would die here today, and there would be outrage but not from Eret, because he’d known what he was getting himself into. They all had.

They’d signed their names on the agreement with each swipe of the blade, each arrow knocked. They’d all silently agreed on the outcome of this, silently begging for death on the opposing side, silently praying for blood to be spilled, for blood to dry and be done with. But Eret did not care where the blood fallen came from. Whose veins were slashed, whose skin was pierced, whose eyes fell glassy and opaque for the last time. As long as it was not his.

The war was not finished, not until the sun crawled away, moon rising to wash away the stains of the day. But Eret had already won. He paused in his step, glancing down at his reflection. It rippled, his own eyes blinking up at him. He was met with a small smile, his lips quirking up in relief. He was alive. He was breathing.

Eret did not care whose blood was spilt today, directly or indirectly because of him. He secretly hoped it might be both. Then this would finally all dissipate into nothing but sorrow and lament for the dead, and Eret could return to living without consciously breathing.

The man resumed his steps, clicking boots fading into nothing as he stepped over the end of the path, electing to spend the rest of the day wandering. A flock of crows flew overhead, burnt pieces of paper whispering through the sky as the man walked. The war was not yet over. But Eret had won.

Because he could walk, satisfied with the bloodied footprints that would endlessly shadow his steps.

*

“No. Get to fuck. I’m not doing that. No. No, Dream. No.”

Dream stared down at George, unamused. But George didn’t give a shit. He tried to brush past him, but Dream’s arm shot out, trapping the shorter boy in the hall. George clenched his jaw in anger. It was easier to be angry, to let that consume him, than confront what was happening. He’d at least thought he’d have until he was standing, sun fading into nothingness. He wasn’t expecting…this.

“George-” the taller man sighed, fingers tightening on the wooden doorway.

“No. Go ask Sapnap,” George said, eyes flaring in defiance as he folded his arms tightly. If he folded his arms into his chest, he could ignore the way they were weakly trembling. He ignored the way the sweater was practically drowning him in Dream’s smell; coffee and fresh mint. He ignored every single thing that even threatened to push him over the edge.

“I’m not fucking about Dream,” George added when Dream didn’t budge his arm.

“Neither am I,” the taller man snarled, teeth bared. His face fell as soon as George blinked up at him, blue eyes painted in betrayal. “Sorry, I-I just…I didn’t want to ask you, George.”

“So don’t,” George breathed out, voice wavering painfully. “Please don’t ask me, Dream,” the younger man shook his head, and didn’t stop shaking it as strained tears relentlessly pushed their way out of his eyes. He brough his hands up to his face in frustration, wiping the damp away as his head kept shaking back and forth roughly.

He didn’t stop when Dream placed tentative arms around him, pulling him into his chest. “You know I’m going to be alright?” He heard Dream ask, voice barely louder than a whisper. George didn’t reply. He didn’t know how to.

Dream wasn’t going to be alright.

He was either going to die, or he was going to kill Tommy, a child.

The thought of it was suffocating to George, every single possible outcome pressing down on his heart. He was so fucking furious at Dream to agreeing to this duel. But he couldn’t express that, couldn’t let Dream know that every time he caught George’s gaze, a flare of anger erupted in George’s veins. Because even though his anger was making his fingers twitch to the rhythm of his erratic heartbeat, George still loved Dream.

He loved him so much it was almost painful. It was tearing him apart, muscle by muscle. If he could, George would open up his veins for Dream, and tie their hearts together, strand by strand. The thought of losing Dream, even just the idea of it, sent George spiralling. Threatened to completely knock him off-kilter. And that was how he’d ended up silently begging to the gods that Tommy would take his final breath today.

And that in turn made George despise himself.

Pushing himself out of bed that morning, he’d taken one solemn glance at the man who’d lain beside him. Pale lips parted, eyelashes fluttering lightly, so alive and solid and _here_ , that George had taken relief in imagining Tommy dead on the ground, blood spilling out his mouth.

And bile had risen in George’s throat, and he’d tried to convince himself for an hour that he didn’t mean that. He’d sat on the mattress beside the sleeping Dream, legs pulled tightly against his chest and told himself it had been a fleeting thought, one he hadn’t meant at all. But then Dream had shuffled in his sleep, fingers falling onto George’s ankle, and his skin had been set alight. And he’d taken solace in the knowledge that Dream would live, because Tommy wouldn’t.

George was fine destroying himself from the inside out if it meant Dream stayed alive. If George had to duck every time he passed a mirror, unable to meet what he had now become, that was alright with him. As long as Dream was beside him, tanned fingers intertwined, blond locks curling at the nape of his neck, dimples crinkling in the light.

“I know.” George’s lie was muffled by Dream’s hoodie. He buried his face in deeper, wondering absently if the hoodie could muffle his breathing too. “But I don’t think I can.”

“I need to be poisoned, George.” He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as Dream spoke, fisting the green hoodie into his fingers desperately. Maybe if he just kept Dream here, in his fingers, everything would be okay. Dream would be okay. They would be okay. “We agreed on it.”

“Please ask Sapnap,” George muttered as Dream pulled away, holding the shorter man at arm’s length as he watched him carefully through pale green eyes. “I’m not asking Sapnap,” Dream replied, voice hoarse. “I can’t…I don’t think I can do it with Sap. Please, George. Don’t make me do it by myself.”

And it was the way Dream’s voice broke on the last sentence, words fading into the still air between them, that shattered into George like a bullet. He found himself nodding warily, tightening his grip on Dream’s clothing. A relieved sigh escaped Dream as he nodded, as if to persuade himself that it was alright now. George had agreed, so everything was alright.

“I have some poison upstairs,” Dream murmured, eyes glassy as he took a step back. George didn’t speak, just nodded again. He could feel everything around him start to crumble when Dream disappeared upstairs to hunt for some poison. And then when he returned, precariously balancing glass bottles in his arms, George’s world was fully pushed off of orbit.

Scars of time reflected in Dream’s pale eyes, and George’s throat bobbed when the other boy sheepishly smiled. As if he was asking George to go out to dinner with him, not to poison him slowly. He dropped Dream’s gaze, training his blurry eyes onto his shoes instead, the scars of everything reflecting in Dream’s eyes too much for George to bare.

George followed him wordlessly into the kitchen, watching blankly as Dream let the corked bottles topple onto the scratched wooden table. “It’ll need to be a lot,” Dream murmured, tilting his head curiously as he ran his fingers over the glass. “We’ve got a couple hours until the duel, so if we use all of this now, we should be-”

Each use of the word we were like bullets through George. “I know how potions work,” George huffed, snarky, rolling his eyes as he lightly elbowed Dream’s side. He ignored the way that usual grin broke out across Dream’s square jaw. Ignored the way that for a split second everything seemed completely fine. He was being cranky and grumpy; Dream was being calculating and blasé. Was almost easy to forget what they were planning. Maybe if George hadn’t loved Dream so much it would’ve been easier.

“Alright,” George nodded shakily, but he didn’t move from where he was standing. His fingers stayed at his side, clenched and inert. He flinched when he felt something against his skin. His eyes blinked down at Dream’s long fingers, throat dry as he guided George’s hand down to the table, wrapping his own cold fingers around the glass.

“George-” The shorter man snarled out when Dream said his name, vexed by the sheer amount of kindness and love laced into the letters. “Just turn around,” George said, eyes growing tortured.

Dream nodded, too quickly, and as he turned to face the opposite wall, George picked up the first potion. Nothing had ever felt so heavy and yet so weightless at the same time. This insignificant, frail glass was going to hurt Dream, who George had convinced himself was untouchable. _He_ was going to hurt Dream.

George stifled a sob as his hands shook in front of him. “Dream, I-”

“I know,” the taller boy said in a tight voice. George’s dark brows knitted together. He hadn’t even really known what he was going to confess. How did Dream? His throat bobbed as he clenched the bottle tighter. Dream always seemed to know what George was thinking. As if George laid his mind completely bare for Dream constantly. As if he was completely for Dream, his thoughts and feelings and breaths owned by him.

Or maybe the waiting was just too much for Dream to bare, and he needed George to hurry the fuck up.

He threw the potion with a final breath, watching the glass shatter. Dream let out a stiff cough, shoulders tightening as he leaned over. “Dream,” George tried, going to take a step forward. But Dream threw out a hand, other arm still pounding on his own chest, and shook his head. “Don’t stop,” he said blearily. “It’s better if we don’t stop.”

George nodded heavily even though Dream couldn’t see. His thoughts started to haze out as he walked backwards, hand reaching out for another potion. Shattering echoed hauntingly around his head. Glass spilled at Dream’s feet, crunching deafening as Dream stumbled back slightly, arms shooting out to balance himself.

He turned his head, and George let out a cry. Dream tried to smile, arms out as if to console a terrified child, but the sight of him made George’s face crumple. The sunken cheekbones, skin so translucent he looked like a wraith and eyes bloodshot, crusting and angry. He’d only thrown two. The idea of two more was horrific.

George hugged himself with both arms, tears streaming violently down his face as Dream made to reach out, staggering. The tall man’s knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor, gurgling in frustration as he squinted up at George. Blood stained his teeth as he tried desperately to smile at George. “I think I’m just going to stay here, okay?” Dream’s voice was pained, and it made George’s vision blur. Everything was hazy as he scrambled backwards, grabbing the other two potions and immediately throwing one.

Dream wheezed in pain, only barely managing to hold himself up with one arm, eyes fluttering shut as he grinned up at George. The pain from the potions seemed to have untethered him from reality as he blinked.

The whimpering from George pulled him back. “Just one mo-” George had already thrown the potion, the cruel smash of the glass interrupting Dream’s blurred words. As soon as the poison seemed to sink in, Dream’s arm buckled, and he dropped to the floor with a soft thud.

George let out a shaky breath, already moving towards Dream, ready to help, when the blond shook his head, raising a pale arm. “Don’t,” he croaked out, lifting his head to peer up at George. “Just…wait a moment.” George shook his head, brows furrowing together but before he could take a step, Dream groaned out. “There might still be poison in the air. Just…wait. Please, George. Just stay there for a minute.” The words seemed to hurt, Dream’s face writhing in pain.

As much as George wanted to ignore the man, wanted to pull him into his arms and make him stop hurting, the pleading in Dream’s voice kept his feet frozen to the tiled floor. He counted down the seconds in his head. He watched, helpless, as Dream rolled onto his side, coughing up sharp blood onto the tiles Sap had washed the other day. He watched, pathetic, as Dream let his head fall against the floor, breathing shuddering. He watched, powerless, as Dream’s lips parted, and he tried to glance up at George. He didn’t say anything, maybe he was in too much pain, but the weak smile he gave George hurt more than a blade across his throat.

As soon as George hit that number sixty in his head, he was darting across the kitchen, skidding onto the glass ridden floor. His fingers ran over Dream’s face, biting his bottom lip harshly as he pulled the other man’s head into his lap. “It’s okay,” George murmured softly, brushing damp blond hair from his forehead. He was too cold. His skin hurt to touch. Everything hurt to touch.

He sniffed lightly, Dream feeling solid in his arms. They sat there in silence, glass silently cutting uncomfortably into their skin. Dream spluttered weakly, and it turned into a violent coughing fit pretty quickly. George guided him so he was sitting up, gripping onto Dream’s sleeves as blood dripped down his face. “You might wanna just leave me alone,” Dream sighed after he’d finished coughing, head hanging lowly. George frowned when Dream lightly tried to wriggle out of his grasp, too frail to actually get away.

“What? Why?”

“Because I’m pretty sure I’m about to throw up,” Dream murmured with a smirk, the joke falling flat when his face paled and the taller boy clamped a hand over his mouth. George instantly shot to his feet, grabbing the closet bowl he could find before handing it to Dream. The taller boy was lathered in sweat as he shoved his face into the bowl, heaving viciously.

George felt slightly nauseous as he knelt down beside him, grabbing a cloth from the counter. Dream protested when George went to wipe his chin, but the shorter boy just rolled his eyes and continued. He rubbed steady circles over his back until Dream had heaved everything in his body up. When he pulled away, Dream's nose crinkled in disgust and embarrassment, roughly shoving the bowl away with his foot before he collapsed back into George. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“You’re a dumbass,” George sighed, mindlessly playing with the longer pieces of Dream’s hair at the nape of his neck. “You’ve just been dosed with four potions of harming. I wasn’t expecting you to look like a God right after.”

“Are you saying I don’t look like a God?” Dream huffed, burying his face into George’s neck. He couldn’t bring himself to continue the joke. Not after what he’d just done to Dream. Not after everything that had just happened. “’M still sorry,” Dream continued, words slurring slightly.

“Don’t be,” George sighed. He bit down his own apology. He knew Dream would just feel guilty if he apologised. He didn’t need that right now. “What’s that thing they say? In sickness and in health?”

“That’s for married people, George.” Came Dream’s muffled response.

“Just because we aren’t married doesn’t mean I can’t love you unconditionally,” George replied, lightly flicking Dream’s neck.

“Well, if you don’t help me up so I can get changed out of this shit, I’m divorcing you.” Despite everything, the imminent duel, Dream currently being half-way to death and the haunting image of the glass falling out of George’s hand, he laughed.

“Fine. You can have full custody of Sap,” George replied, straightening up before he hauled Dream up to his feet. The taller man tried to laugh, but he ended up choking on blood, spitting it out onto his sleeve with a wince. George’s smile faltered as he wrapped an arm around Dream’s waist, guiding him towards the stairs.

He had to win this duel.

He had to.

*

Will tried to stop glancing at Tommy as the four of them made their way through the plains. The younger boy had finally stopped coughing an hour ago, but the paling of his skin was still sending spikes of panic through Will.

Tommy was shivering in his long, thick coat, wrapping his arms around himself tightly as he fell behind slightly. Tubbo continued on, hands shoved into his pockets as he took long strides across the fields. His face was stony. Will was surprised he’d even agreed to come.

It had happened about five hours ago. Will had been in his office, tapping a quill against a plain piece of parchment, not realising as ink slowly snaked its way down his arm. He’d blinked up in surprise when a quick knock had sounded at his door, followed by Tommy shouldering it open. “Hey Will,” he’d grinned widely, not looking at all like a man who was about to fight to the death. “You got any potions around here?” he’d asked, craning his neck to scan the shelves.

“Yes, I do,” Will had responded slowly, dropping the quill from his fingers. “Why?”

“It’s part of the duel,” Tommy had muttered, voice dropping. “I need to poison myself.” Will had opened his mouth to object, but the look Tommy threw him, a mixture of plead and strength, set it shut. He’d just nodded and handed Tommy over four potions of harming.

Tommy had appeared back in L’Manberg about half an hour later, looking like he’d already died. Will had rushed over to the limping boy, yelling for Tubbo and Fundy, catching Tommy in his arms before he collapsed. “Holy shit, Tommy,” Will had breathed shakily, balking down at how pale the younger boy was, how saturated and frail.

Tommy’s eyes had been glazed over, but he hadn’t even acknowledged Will, just gripped onto Tubbo’s shirt when he and Fundy had run over, lips parted in surprise. “Please, Tubbo,” Tommy had pleaded, voice cracking furiously. “I need you to come. Please don’t leave me. Please don’t hate me.”

“I don’t…” Tubbo had trailed off as he watched Tommy’s face contorted in pain, completely collapsing in Will’s hold. “Of course, I’ll come, Tommy. I’ll come.” And Tommy’s face had flooded with relief before he’d passed out.

And now he walked behind them, still looking like shit, but not completely on the brink of death, head held high. Will faltered slightly, so he was walking in step with Tommy. “You ready?” he asked as they came over the final hill, the wooden path now fully in view.

Tommy didn’t speak, just nodded firmly. But a feral smirk ripped over his lips as he glanced up at Will. The older man let out a chuckle, nodding his head as he clapped Tommy’s shoulder. “You’re ready.”

The sun was falling. It was dragging itself down the sky messily, like a painter with a shaking hand. Fundy and Tubbo paused at the bottom of the hill, electing to pull themselves up onto the overlooking rocks. Will stayed beside Tommy, clasping his hands behind his back as he plastered a cast of indifference over his face.

Tommy let loose a ropey breath, head jerking up to meet Will’s eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but paused when the harsh sounds of oncoming footsteps sounded. Will and Tommy turned, meeting Dream’s prodigious gaze from the other side of the path. He was wearing his mask, but Will didn’t need to see his face to know he was as fucked as Tommy. He could tell in the way he held himself, just a little less straight than usual.

George, Sapnap, Eret and Punz were behind him, each man looking a different sort of terrified. With a sharp jerk of his head, Dream signalled for his men to leave, and the four of them went to stand beside Fundy and Tubbo. Sapnap and George hesitated, both sharing a look of concern before George laced his fingers through Sapnap’s, tugging the younger man away towards the rocks.

“I need a bow,” Tommy cringed as his eyes fell on the quiver in Dream’s hands. Will sighed, because _of course_ Tommy would forget to bring his weapon to a duel.

“Tubbo,” Will said, turning his head to look at the young boy who was standing on the rocks beside everyone else, looking painfully out of place. He was almost a foot taller than most of them, bar George. But George looked older than his years, always had this sort of haunted look whispering across his dark eyes. Tubbo didn’t have that, didn’t have the taint of years past. He only had this war to his name, and those mental scars hadn’t started showing yet.

“Give this man a bow,” Will instructed, placing a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. The boy shuddered, and when Will looked down, he saw him staring at Dream, throat bobbing and eyes wide.

“I’m sorry,” Tubbo shrugged helplessly, watching Tommy carefully. He might’ve been angry at his best friend, but the worry was evident on his soft features. “I don’t have one.”

Will gritted his teeth, swallowed his pride and looked up to the other men standing on the rocks. “Can we borrow a bow?” he gritted out, throwing Tommy a sideways glance because again, of fucking course he forgot a bow. “George? Do you have a bow?”

The shorter man’s head snapped towards him; dark eyes narrowed in absolute resentment. Wilbur was a little taken aback. George debatably looked as shit as Tommy, and Will was going to take a safe bet he hadn’t had four glasses of potion smashed over his head. But he had dark bags that looked tattooed on under his eyes, lips chapped, and hair tussled. “Not one you can have,” he hissed, defensively holding onto the bow thrown over his shoulder.

“I have one,” Fundy sighed, hopping off of the rocks to pass over a basic standard bow. Will watched as Tommy took it into his hands, blinking down as he traced his shivering fingers over the curve of the wood. “I’m not fully supporting your decision,” Fundy breathed, shaking his auburn curls out of his face as he affectionately knocked Tommy’s chin with his fist. “But, good luck.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t need your bow,” Will said, shooting a passive aggressive smile towards George. The other man just glared at him; tired eyes painted in vexation. “Yeah bitch!” Tommy shouted from Will’s side, now fully spinning the bow in his hands. His enthusiasm caused a grin to spread across Will’s face. How had he ever doubted Tommy? “What kind of a name is _George_?” he asked, nose crinkling. He blinked up when Will lightly elbowed him in the side, and shrugged silently, letting Will speak.

“Do you remember?” Will asked, flashes of him, Dream and George’s first meeting flashing through his mind. He and Dream had gotten there first, a small seaside town, far away from here. Splashing lightly in the sea, shivering but laughing loudly. Dunking George’s head under the water when he’d finally showed up. Shaking his hair once they’d gotten out, spraying the other two as they’d all clutched at their stomachs from laughing too much. The way he’d kept finding sand in his socks days later, but smiled every time as he recounted the day he’d had.

That George was dead now.

“I recall,” George got out through gritted teeth, looking away from Tommy and Will as he folded his arms tight to his chest.

“Who would’ve thought we’d end up here?” Will let out a humourless laugh as he gestured with his arms to himself then George. George didn’t respond, the muscle in his jaw twitching. Will kept going, desperate to see any kind of reaction.

“Watching our…men duel? Duel to the death?” His eyes shot to Dream as he said it, and George followed Will’s line of sight with an empty blink. Will knew it was cruel to bring up George’s almost crippling devotion to Dream, to remind him that Dream could be lying dead in mere minutes. But he wanted to be cruel now. George had enabled Dream this whole time, standing silently by his side. He deserved the repercussions.

“No one could’ve predicted this,” George said flatly as he kept his eyes trained on Wilbur, as if not letting himself look at the man dressed in green. Anger spiked through Will as he shook his head at George. “You were meant to be European!” he cried out, face contorting in betrayal. George had been his _friend_. Of course, he wasn’t as close to him as Dream or Sapnap was…but this was a fucking war. George had betrayed any good in him just to stand with his friends.

He must’ve known he was on the wrong side of this, must’ve seen it. And yet he never even once came to Will, never once even seemed to question on the side he so proudly stood on.

“That goes for you too, Eret,” Will spat out, acknowledging the way Tommy was watching this with wide eyes, fingers clenching tightly around his bow. Eret didn’t speak, sighing slightly as he turned to look at Will, as if he was annoyed he was being dragged into this. The fucking audacity. As if he hadn’t _betrayed_ them. Turned them over for his own protection. Lead them like lambs to the fucking slaughter. “Yeah, speechless,” Will nodded, folding his own arms.

“They gave me the better deal,” was all Eret said. That’s all he ever said. Will just snarled, shaking his head before he decided it wasn’t worth it. Neither of them were. What was done was done. All that mattered now was Tommy.

He gave the younger boy one solidary pat before he stepped off of the wooden path, stalking down so he was standing beside the middle. “Handshake,” Will demanded, throat bobbing as he glanced between the two men. “I want a clean fight.”

Come on Tommy, he prayed silently as the two slowly walked into the middle. Tommy was his little brother, his _responsibility_. Will couldn't even fathom a world where Tommy didn't win this duel.

Dream held out his hand, and Will watched as Tommy took it tentatively, flinching when their skin connected, as if he expected Dream to pull out a dagger and kill him there and then.

Come on Tommy.

*

“One.”

Sapnap didn’t even realise he had been holding his breath since they’d arrived until Wilbur started counting. He felt himself let go as Dream took a step forward, light reflecting off of his mask. He slid his hands into his trouser pockets, hiding his fingers as he crossed them tightly.

“Two.”

He knew Dream would win; he always does. But still. Made him feel better. Glancing over at George, the anxiety continued to blossom in his chest. His friend had his hands clasped together, resting under his chin as he watched Dream with a silent intensity. Sapnap wanted to reach over, pull him into a comforting hug and tell him it was going to be fine, because come on, this was _Dream_ they’re talking about. But he didn't. Because for some reason he didn't want to uncross his fingers.

“Three.”

His netherite sword was heavy on his back, strapped across tightly. This was meant to be the end, but Sapnap had a growing worry that this would just be a new beginning. He couldn’t imagine Wilbur taking the death of Tommy all that well.

“Four.”

He let himself take a glance at the younger boy, frowning deeply. He was young, sure, but Sapnap didn’t really see why that mattered. He had gotten himself into this, the same as the rest of them. Tommy had actually seemed to relish in the war, battler and victory washing over him with a shit-eating grin. He had antagonised Dream to the point of _war._ He had suggested this duel. He deserved what ever came to him. 

“Five.”

The men of L’Manberg stood huddled together, Tubbo’s head in his hands as he peeked through his fingers. He wondered if they knew their brother was about to die. Wondered how long they’d tried to convince Tommy not to go through with this. He wondered who had been the one to smash the poison over the boy.

“Six.”

George had done it for Dream. Sapnap had come back to the house to find George in the kitchen, violently sobbing on the floor. He hadn’t needed to ask him what had happened. The shards of glass and the distinctive smell of fermented spider eye causing his own eyes to water evidence of the scene that had clearly unfolded while he was away. He hadn’t said anything, just silently gathered up the sharp glass before he sat down beside George, letting the shorter man rest his head on his shoulder as he cried into his palms.

“Seven.”

Guilt unfurled in his chest as Sapnap realised how relieved he was that Dream had asked George. He wouldn’t have been able to do it. It would’ve ruined him. That’s why he isn’t worried now. Because he knows Dream is going to win. So he won’t have to deal with the same thing George did.

“Eight.”

Sapnap is great with his own pain. He can handle being stabbed or sliced open, can handle being grabbed at by a gurgler or missing his jump and tumbling out of a tree. He can’t deal with his family’s pain. It sets something in him off. Makes him want to strangle something, makes him want to take a knife and start stabbing shit. Seeing George with a broken nose, or Dream with blood dribbling down his neck…no, Sapnap can’t handle it.

“Nine.”

But he wouldn't have to today. He knew he couldn't.

He crossed his fingers tighter, almost to the point of pain.

Sapnap grinned when he realised Dream was looking up at them, green eyes sparkling with something he couldn't quite place. George grabbed onto Sapnap’s left hand in panic, and Sapnap let him pull his fingers out of his pocket. His fingers uncrossed.

“Ten paces, fire,” Will’s voice called. Dream snapped his gaze away from them, and George’s hold on Sapnap’s fingers tightened. Dream knocked back his arrow instantly, leaving the bow with a devious whisper, hissing through the air as it shot towards Tommy. Sapnap let out a trembling sigh, squeezing George’s hand in silent victory as the two of them watched Dream’s arrow soar right under the arrow flying from the opposite direction. 

The other arrow.

George’s hand fell from Sapnap’s.

Screams rioted around his head, silent and yet also deafening. His feet were moving before his brain could even register what was happening, leaping down from the rocks and hitting the wooden path with a soft thud. He didn’t know if anyone was following him, didn’t know what else was happening as he sprinted towards Dream.

His best friend was only standing a couple of meters away from him, but it seemed like every step Sapnap took towards him, Dream somehow ended up miles away. When he finally fucking reached him, Dream fell, hitting the path with a painful wheeze.

Sapnap’s eyes widened in horror as he knelt down beside Dream, gripping at him tightly. Tommy was a horrific shot. The arrow was planted roughly in the side Dream’s neck, blood slowly making its way down his tanned throat.

“Hey buddy,” Sapnap said as Dream looked up at him, green eyes crinkling. “You’re alright.” He tried to keep his voice as stable as possible, but he couldn’t even really hear himself, the horror of everything too loud in his head. “I’ve got you, buddy. I’ve got you,” he muttered as he slowly pulled Dream’s already too stiff body into his lap, trying to support his back as he wildly scanned around.

L’Manberg were crowded around the other side of the path, wails of anguish enough to let Sapnap know Dream’s arrow had hit its mark. Punz was standing behind him, hands tugging his blonde hair as he spoke quickly, words tumbling from his mouth like ash. But Sapnap couldn’t hear Punz asking what he could do to help, offering to go find healing potions, find anything that might help. Punz couldn’t even really hear himself either, too focused on the sight of the dying man front of him.

Sapnap glanced behind his shoulder, face threatening to crumble when he saw George. The British man was on his knees, fingers digging into the dirt as tears wracked his body. And Eret…Eret had vanished. “Fucking bastard,” Sapnap muttered, voice cracking when he felt a hand on his chest. Sapnap's body ached with the need to lash out, craving the taste for blood after what had just happened. Sapnap needed to see something fucking burn.

But Dream's hand on him forced those thoughts out of his head. Looking back down with a heavy head, he wrapped Dream’s hand in his own. He hated how fucking cold it was in comparison to his own. “I can’t…” Dream started speaking, blood streaking his words as he leaned into Sapnap’s touch. “Believe that fuck-that fucking kid managed to…managed to get me.”

“You’re losing your touch, old man,” Sapnap said, trying to plaster a smile onto his face for his dying friend. He hoped it didn't come out as a grimace. Dream didn’t need to see the grief wrecking him. He wasn’t gone yet. He was still there, still solid in Sapnap’s arms. A soft laugh escaped Dream’s lips, eyes fluttering shut.

Sapnap reached up with his other hand and slowly untied the fucked mask from his friend’s face. He counted the seconds in-between each breath Dream took, brushing the white mask from its place. “Sapnap,” Dream breathed out, gripping Sapnap’s shirt tightly in his fist. “I’m going to-gonna need you to promise m-me something.”

Sapnap nodded eagerly, his friend’s hand soft and limp in his, as if Dream was losing his life from the outside in. His unyielding eyes were still there though, bright and sharp as they scanned Sapnap’s face. “I’m gonna need you to look after George for me.” He managed to get the whole sentence out without wincing in pain, but as soon as he finished speaking, he roughly hacked up blood, cringing when it landed on Sapnap’s shirt.

“Of course, man,” Sapnap promised, brushing a thumb down his friend’s face.

“Thanks,” Dream smiled, soft smile on his lips as his head faltered, dropping into Sapnap’s chest. The Texan just pulled him closer, tighter, arms wrapping around his torso. “I…” he sighed, a mix of frustration painting the dying man’s face as he blinked up at Sapnap. His green eyes started to water. “Gonna need you to look after yourself too, m’kay?” His words started slurring together, and it reminds Sapnap of a drunk teenage Dream, throwing his arms carelessly around his friends’ shoulders.

“I’m a big boy,” Sapnap laughed lightly, hand on Dream’s shoulder to steady him. “I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. Promise.”

Dream nodded, seemingly satisfied. “I wish we could’ve had more time, man,” Dream whispered, voice not sounding like his at all. Sapnap ignored it, and just nodded back, feeling a certain stuffiness in the back of his own eyes. With each new strained word, each forced breath Dream took, Sapnap felt a new bruise forming on his heart.

He hoped Dream couldn’t hear George’s wails of pain.

“Me too,” Sapnap smiled, running a hand over Dream’s damp hair. “But what we had was pretty great, right?”

“Yeah,” Dream breathed, a laugh sounding from where his head laid against Sapnap’s chest. Sapnap ignored the feeling that time was slowing down. That the world was burning from the inside out as Dream struggled to breathe. What kind of fucking world would it be without Dream? “It was pretty great.”

“Remember that time we were in the boat? And the gurglers almost got you? Man, I’ve never seen yourself shit yourself so bad. Oh, and that time where George and I were fighting that ghast for a solid three hours, and you showed up and got it in one try? That was fucking beautiful, man. Maybe you should’ve let the ghast get George though, then we wouldn’t have had to eat his fucking shitty pasta ever again.” Sapnap kept mumbling, memories and stories slipping off of his tongue long after Dream had taken his final breath, going limp in the younger man’s arms.

He didn’t stop speaking until he felt a solid touch on his shoulder, vaguely recognising it as Punz. “We’ve got to go, mate,” the man said, staring down at Sapnap with absolute despair written across his face. Sapnap nodded, not able to find anything to say before he let Dream’s body slip out of his arms.

“Would you?” He hated to ask Punz, but George was still crouching on the ground, face buried in his hands. The blond nodded instantly, bending down and heaving Dream’s body into his arms bridal style. “I’ll take him back to yours.” And then he was gone.

Sapnap traipsed over to George, dropping down beside the broken man and crossing his legs into a basket. He didn’t speak, because there was nothing to say. Again, he had nothing of comfort to say to George. But this time he didn’t wait for George to lean against his shoulder, he just pulled the smaller man into his lap and wrapped his arms around him tightly – like he needed to squeeze the life back into George. And maybe he did.

His jaw trembled when George dug his fingers frantically into Sapnap’s back, sobbing into the crook of his neck as his whole body trembled. Sapnap’s tears were silent, a stark contrast to the tsunami of pain that was George.

And together the two of them sat there, clinging onto each other desperately, for now they were the only thing the other had. George’s curls tickled Sapnap’s neck, and for some reason that made him cry harder, hiding his face in George’s messy mop of hair.

There was nothing they could do. Nothing they could say. Nothing would ever bring their best friend back to them.

But the warmth of each other helped a little bit. And if Sapnap tried hard enough, if he squeezed his eyes shut tight enough, he could pretend that Dream was right there with them.

As his own tears subsided, and George carried onto sobbing pitifully into Sapnap, as he felt a growing dampness on his shoulder, the taller man glared down at his fingers as they clutched at George.

He should’ve kept them crossed.

*

Tubbo couldn’t speak. He didn’t know why. But he just could get the words out. Couldn’t get any words out.

He hadn’t spoken since the arrow had shot straight through Tommy’s back. He died before his body hit the path, a surprised expression etched onto his face for forever. He hadn’t got to say goodbye.

He supposed it was a small mercy for Tommy, not having to hear Will sob over his broken and limp body. Dream had to hear his friends scream for him. But Dream deserved it. Because he had taken Tommy from Tubbo. Had taken his best friend away from him.

_“I’m so sorry,” Tubbo choked out, clinging onto Tommy’s lapels as he shook his body. Maybe he could wake him up. Maybe Tubbo could wake himself up, because there was no way this was real. There was absolutely no way Tommy was lying dead in front of him, eyes glassy, face frozen, heart stopped._

_“I’m not angry at you, Tommy. I could never be angry at you,” he cried out, hands digging into Tommy’s shoulders. “Just wake up. Please, please just wake up.”_

_Tommy hadn’t woken up. He’d laid, as empty and motionless as a doll, in Tubbo’s arms. He’d run his hands through Tommy’s blond curls, sobbing into his best friend’s hair until Will had practically dragged him away from the body. The last thing he’d seen was the pool of crimson blood leaking across the wooden planks, dripping into the pond soberly._

Tubbo didn’t sleep anymore. He couldn’t. Every time he tried, he saw Tommy’s glazed eyes, glaring at him, accusing him, begging him. It was too much. It was all too much.

It wasn’t like he didn’t try. He tried so hard. He stood by Will’s side as they surrendered. Signed the document that acknowledged Eret as the new king of the land. Smiled when Niki arrived, beautiful face untouched by everything that had happened.

Niki was kind. She would smile, and for a moment Tubbo would think everything was alright. That’s what happened with Will and Fundy. Of course, they grieved. Tubbo would find Will standing outside the walls of L’Manberg completely undone, hands fisting his dark hair angrily. Fundy would make four portions, always leaving out a plate for their lost brother. But eventually they stopped.

Eventually living overtook the shadow of death for them, and Tubbo didn’t blame them. No, he was actually overjoyed for his friends. The way Will had found Niki, could now smile again without guilt. The way Fundy travelled the land, charting every unexplored biome and bringing back exotic fruits and gifts. Tubbo just _couldn’t_.

He built a small house beside where Tommy was buried.

He liked it there. There were bees and flowers, and he could talk to the spirits without Will worrying about him. He liked sitting beside Tommy’s headstone, fingers tracing his carved name. He liked the way the stone would cut his fingers, blood dripping into the crevices.

Tubbo almost thought a part of him had died that day, along with his brother. He didn’t know if it still worked, if it still rattled in his chest. Tubbo didn’t know if any of him still worked anymore. If Tommy had taken all the parts of Tubbo that were good along with him when he’d taken his last breath.

But none of that mattered. He had his bees, and he had the stone that would forever carry Tommy’s name, even after Tubbo himself was gone. He didn’t mind what he was now. Didn’t mind that he was now merely a shell, his only purpose to remember the boy who’d given his life for victory.

He’d always been happy being Tommy’s shadow, and just because he was gone now, didn’t mean that had to change.

Tubbo knelt down beside Tommy’s headstone, dirt dampening his knees as he planted orange tulips alongside the stone. This is what he did every day, silently planting orange tulips, one by one, beside Tommy’s grave.

He wanted everywhere to be drowned in a sea of orange tulips. 

He had let his best friend, _his brother_ , down. He had died thinking Tubbo hated him. Tubbo had done that. He had failed Tommy.

He never got to give him his tulips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...hey guys :)
> 
> ok before you all get too sad this is just one ending! The next chapter will be a happy ending :) where everyone lives and is happy :) 
> 
> sorry bhoys but I had to do it to them
> 
> (and sorry it was so long omg I just couldn't stop)


	14. It Hurts to Say but I Want You to Stay, Sometimes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Victory is reserved for those who are willing to pay the price."
> 
> Dream and Tommy duel, one shoots true, one doesn't.

There’d only ever been one other time where Dream thought that the end was near.

_“Can you just pass me the fucking oar, dickhead?” Dream hissed at Sapnap, clutching onto the side of the boat as it rocked precariously back and forth._

_“The hell are you going to do with the oar?” Sap yelled back, face paling as another gurgler appeared, slimy fingers gripping onto the side of their boat. Dream sighed in frustration, watching as his friend started hitting the gurglers over the head with the oar, the wood splintering._

_This wasn’t working._

_Dream stood up, hands shooting out to balance himself as the boat rocked even harsher, threatening to send them both toppling into the water. Sap glared at him, dark eyes painted in vexation, but one of the gurglers deciding Sapnap’s wrist looked particularly tasty forced his attention away from his reckless friend._

_Dream’s eyes focused in on his sword lying on the other side of the boat. He just needed to get to it. That was easy. This would be easy, he told himself as he took a step forward. Then another. And another, hands still spread out to stop himself from decking it. And then the iron was in his hands, the heaviness welcoming. Dream let out a laugh of victory, spinning around quickly to help Sapnap._

_His sword swung through the air with a low tune, slicing easily through the gurgler’s neck. The head toppled off, sinking into the sea with a crimson trail. The monster’s body followed. He swung at the other two, as Sap continued beating them over the head with the now mutilated oar._

_When they were dead, Dream let his sword rest against his chest, grinning down at his reflection. Sapnap rolled his eyes as he dropped onto his back, chest heaving. “I fucking hate the sea,” he muttered. Dream let out a soft wheeze, ready to sit back down and continue on back home. Sapnap sat back up, face suddenly contorting into horror. Dream’s brows furrowed, but before he could ask him what was wrong, he was suddenly roughly dragged out of the boat and crashed into the harsh water._

_He tried to yell out at the impact, the water freezing over his blood, but all he was met with was water filling his lungs. Wildly scanning around, his heart picked up when he saw the gurgler, creepy fingers fisted into Dream’s hoodie. The man tried to thrash against the hold, tried to kick at the monster, but his panic only rose as he was dragged in deeper and deeper._

_He could feel his heart smashing in his ribs as he kept struggling, arms flailing out in desperation. But then his vision started to blur, and only one thought kept screaming in Dream’s mind. He was going to die._

_He could feel it. Feel his lungs seizing up, struggling to keep working as more and more water filled them. But before he could die, he felt an immense firework of pain rip through his face, bubbles forming around him as he let out one final scream. Then everything faded to nothingness._

_“Come on, you stupid fuck.”_

_Dream hadn’t expected to hear Sapnap’s voice in heaven. Actually, there was no way_ he _was in heaven. And hearing Sap’s voice in hell made perfect sense actually._

_“Fucking breathe!”_

_Suddenly, a wave of air was brutally pushed into Dream, and his eyes flew open. Spluttering, he pushed Sapnap off of him, throwing up water as his eyes filled with tears. “Holy shit!” his friend laughed from beside him as Dream dry-heaved, everything aching painfully. He winced down at himself, blinking down at the sand beneath him. How the fuck was he alive?_

_Sapnap let out a loud whoop, crashing into Dream with a bear hug, sending both of them onto the ground again. “I saved your life,” Sap sung into Dream’s ear. Dream hummed, throat feeling scratched and ruined. As Sapnap hugged him, he slowly became aware of the dull pain coming from his face._

_He brought his finger up to prod, but Sap caught his wrist. “I wouldn’t do that, buddy,” he smiled sympathetically. “That gurgler got you pretty good there,” he sighed, gesturing to the right side of his face. “Can’t do anything about it here though,” the younger boy shrugged before he jumped up to his feet, offering Dream a hand. He gingerly took it, ignoring the wet blood that streaked Sap’s fingers. He didn’t want to know how bad his face was._

_The two set back off towards home after they’d shouldered their kit, Sapnap recounting how he’d courageously saved Dream from the gurgler and then dragged him to the shore. It was annoying as hell to trudge home in soaking clothes, the material sticking dreadfully to his skin. The continuous dripping of blood coming from his face was also getting a bit concerning. And Sapnap's incessant talking only managed to take Dream's mind of the dull pain for a grand total of ten minutes. Sap clamped his mouth shut pretty quickly when George appeared anyway, balking at the sight of Dream._

_“What the hell did you two do?” he demanded, shoving Dream inside the house as he glared at Sapnap._

_“Don’t look at me,” the youngest said, holding his hands up in innocence. “I saved his sorry ass.”_

_Dream rolled his eyes when George turned to him, arms folded. “I’m fine, Georgie. Doesn’t even hurt that much anymore.” George let out an incredulous sigh, arching his dark brow at Dream. “You couldn’t even have_ cleaned _it?” George asked once he’d dragged Dream to their table, Sapnap trailing behind them. “What if it gets infected?”_

_“Then he’ll wear his mask more and we won’t have to look at his ugly ass face. Win win.” Sap’s sniggering trailed off when George tilted his head down at him as he dabbed at Dream’s face. The tallest boy hissed in pain, shoving George’s hands away. “Hurts,” he pouted. George’s face softened slightly, and he nodded, being gentler with his fingers as he lightly wiped at Dream’s face. His green eyes widened when the cloth in George’s hand came back caked in blood. “It’s gonna scar,” George hummed as he used his fingers to guide Dream’s face to the side, investigating the wound._

_“’S okay,” Dream shrugged, reaching up and lacing George’s fingers through his. “I don’t mind.” He ignored the gagging sounds Sap made from behind them._

Dream did in fact mind that the wound had done as exactly George said. The deep gash from the gurgler had turned into a pale scar, twisting down his right eye. It had taken a year to get used to, every time he spotted his own reflection in a mirror, something clenched at his stomach. But Dream liked to pretend like the whole situation hadn’t bothered him at all. But more so than the way his scar had made him more comfortable in a mask that his own skin, Dream hated the way he seized up around water now. Every time he tried to swim, he was instantly back in the ocean, unable to breathe, feeling the light in his chest flicker out.

He didn’t ever want to feel that scared again. He wouldn’t let it happen.

He wasn’t going to lose this duel, he told himself as Will started counting, voice steady. He wasn’t going to lose, wasn’t going to die. The wooden planks felt solid under his feet as he took a stride forward, fingers curling around his bow. He ignored the pond underneath him. He hadn’t wanted to do this here, even going so far as to ask Wilbur if they could move. Whatever, this was fine. He was alright. He wasn’t going to lose this. He had made the conscious decision that he wasn’t going to ever let himself feel scared and pathetic as he had when he’d almost drowned.

But he also wasn’t going to destroy himself. He couldn’t kill Tommy. He’d already decided he wouldn’t be killing the boy before George had thrown that potion, glass shattering over his head, poison seeping into his skin and running through his blood.

Dream had already let this war take too much of him away. Had already changed him into a twisted version of himself he didn’t like, didn’t recognise. He knew George saw him differently now too. Knew the man he loved, almost to the point of pain, was trying to strike up a balance of destroying himself and keeping Dream above water. Dream needed that to stop now. Wasn’t going to let this war change who he was, who George thought he was.

He’d already gone too far. Had already done things he silently regretted. He wasn’t going to let it make him a murderer too. Because if he killed Tommy, if he took the young boy’s life with this arrow, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

He already barely could. Sometimes he’d wake up in a cold sweat, gasping as he drowned in blood. It ran down his neck, masking his litter of freckles, twisting itself around his muscles. It was already too much. He didn’t know when it stopped being worth it. When proving his power stopped mattering over the hatred he saw in Will’s eyes. He’d already won, they all knew it. He didn’t need to slaughter this boy to prove it.

As Will kept counting, voice a murmur in Dream’s head, he glanced up towards the rocks. Sapnap and George met his eyes. He couldn’t help the grin that leapt onto his lips as Sap nodded at him, wordlessly cheering him on. He ignored the absolute fear in George’s eyes as he gripped onto Sap’s hand, jaw trembling. George didn’t need to be scared. Dream knew what he had to do now.

So, when Wilbur called out the last number, ordering to fire, Dream spun on his heels, bow stretched, but he didn’t let go. His fingers stilled and he let Tommy shoot first, avoiding the arrow easily, watching as the youth’s face fell in a mix of disappointment and sheer terror. Dream raised his bow, knocking back the arrow, and let the arrow fly.

It hit the mark perfectly, shooting right through Tommy’s leg. The boy screamed out, but it was more in frustration than in pain, and fell to his knees, clutching his leg.

Dream shouldered his bow with a satisfied grin. Just because he wasn’t willing to murder Tommy, didn’t mean he was going to forfeit the duel. And Tommy kind of deserved an arrow to the knee anyway. He was a pain in Dream’s ass.

Tubbo was the first one to move, leaping down from the rocks and rushing to his friend. “Jesus, Tommy, are you okay?” he questioned, gripping tightly onto the blond’s shoulders.

“You’re not…you’re not mad at me?” Tommy asked, whimpering slightly as he blinked up at the other boy. Tubbo shook his head desperately, a small smile whispering on his lips. “No, you idiot. I’m not mad at you.”

Dream watched the scene curiously, only tearing his gaze away when something tackled him. He wheezed as Sapnap jumped into his arms, wrapping his legs around his waist and his arms around his back as he cheered. Dream hugged him back, almost stumbling into the water. “Hell yeah, fuckers!” Sapnap yelled, fist in the air, a feral grin twitching across his mouth.

“Get the fuck off me,” Dream rolled his eyes. The words, although aggressive, only came out softly. Sapnap kept cheering even after jumping down from Dream’s arms, punching the air in ecstasy. Dream glanced down when he felt a hand grip his, smiling softly down at George.

The shorter man didn’t say anything, but the words were clear on his face. The relief sparkled behind his dark eyes, and he grasped onto Dream as if he wasn’t fully convinced the taller man was standing beside him. Dream just squeezed his hand tightly, not letting go even as Punz and Eret came down to join them, laughing and clapping Dream’s back.

“It has been settled,” Dream said as he walked towards the middle of the path, meeting Wilbur. Fundy and Tubbo stayed beside Tommy, tending to his leg as best they could. Will didn’t speak, flashes of anger passing over his face. “Victory,” Eret whistled. That made Wilbur roll his eyes and Dream almost couldn’t help but agree. Eret hadn’t done shit today.

He understood that the man was on his side, that he had put a lot on the line to betray L’Manberg. But he had still betrayed L’Manberg. And that made Dream lose all respect for him. He just didn’t need to trust the man to have him as a pawn.

But now the war was over.

He had won.

“Now, Tommy,” Dream started, lacing his usual arrogance into his voice as he took a step towards the boy, brushing past Wilbur. Tommy blinked up at him, his face blank as he held himself up. Dream had let the boy live, that was as lenient as he was going to be with this.

“I’m expecting Mellohi to be given to me,” he drawled on, arching a condescending brow at the kid. “And as soon as it is, we will seize fire and revoke-”

“Wait, Dream,” Tommy interrupted him, face as serious as Dream had ever seen. “Let me…” he trailed off as he struggled to stand, letting Tubbo and Fundy help him up. Dream smirked down at him as Tommy hobbled over to him, blood still spilling down his leg. He winced in pain as he tried to smile up at the older boy. “Can I talk to you in private? _Please_?”

Dream pushed his tongue into his cheek, humming lightly. He had to admit he was intrigued. He really wasn’t expecting for Tommy to pull something else out of his sleeve. And he supposed he had nothing to lose. He had already won the game, everything that now came was just here say. So, as he looked down at the limping boy, clutching at the wound in his leg, he shrugged.

“Sure.”

*

Tommy didn’t actually end up meeting Dream until the next day. As soon as the older man had shrugged, an amused smile on his face, Tommy had exhaled, nodding eagerly. “Alright,” he’d nodded, making to walk towards Dream.

He’d forgotten he’d just been shot in the leg.

A grunt escaped his lips as he fell, cringing as pain etched its way up his calf. Dots spotted his vision, and Tommy desperately held back a whimper of pain as Tubbo quickly bent down beside him. Instead of screaming out, instead of letting the angry, hot tears of disappointment and ache, Tommy just gripped onto Tubbo’s arm tightly, fingers digging into the other boy’s coat. The harsh wool centred Tommy, his vision clearing.

He found Dream grinning down at him, eyes flashing in conquest. Tommy tried to ignore the stifling feeling of failure as it burned through his body, an irate whisper in his throat. Before he could speak, before he could let himself lash out in anger at Dream as he towered above him, Will appeared, hand on Dream’s chest as he pushed him away.

“Not now,” the president of L’Manberg ordered, voice stoic. Dream lazily pulled his green gaze from the crumpled-up Tommy up to Will, cocking his head at the man. “You spared him, right?” Will asked, Tommy only able to see his back as he kept his hand on Dream’s chest, keeping him away from the rest of them. Tommy’s face burned in shame. He wasn’t stupid. He knew Dream could’ve killed him. But the fact that the man had merely stepped out of the way of his arrow sent billows of embarrassment rocketing through him ruthlessly.

“So, give him a night. Please.”

Tommy had never heard Will say that to Dream before.

Even Dream had looked shocked, blinking up at Will blankly before he stiffly nodded. “You know where to find me,” he said this to Tommy, glancing down at him as he stayed completely still, a bit scared to find out what would happen if he moved, still clutching onto Tubbo. He let out an uncertain laugh when Dream and the rest of them turned to leave, footsteps the only sound bar the uncontrollable relief Tommy was now feeling, coming out as a ring in his ears. Will didn’t move from where he stood in front of them, arms stiff and fingers clenched as he watched the five men walk away. Eret and Punz had disappeared into the line of trees, now only Dream, Sapnap and George visible.

Tommy blinked as he watched them walk together; Dream in the middle, arms wrapped tightly around the other two men, Sapnap on his right, hand draped over Dream’s shoulder, the other pointing up at the night sky, and George on the left, head tilted up to the sky above him as he leans on Dream’s arm.

They looked so normal.

“Can you walk?” Will’s voice pulled Tommy out of his reverie. The younger boy nodded slowly, biting down hard on his bottom lip as Tubbo helped him to his feet. “He’s a good shot,” Will admitted begrudgingly as he peered down at Tommy’s injury. “At least it’s clean.”

“Yeah, _at least_ ,” Tommy snorted, rolling his eyes before the four of them started back towards L’Manberg, the city that was no longer theirs. “You’re so clingy,” Tommy commented as the shorter boy held him tightly, fingers wrapped in his shirt as he helped Tommy walk. “Shup,” Tubbo smiled softly, eyes beaming up at his best friend.

“I really thought he was gonna get you, you know?” Tubbo breathed, glancing back down at his feet.

“Nah,” Tommy shook his head, even though he’d had the same fear as Tubbo when Dream had raised that bow, arrow glaring dangerously at him. “I knew he didn’t have it in him to kill me.”

“I don’t know about _that_ ,” Tubbo sighed, pushing his tongue into his cheek as his brows furrowed.

“Doesn’t matter now, does it?” Tommy asked, voice laced in glee. “I’m still here, right?” Tubbo nodded, tilting his head up at his friend as Tommy wrapped an arm around his wiry shoulders. “Yeah,” Tubbo grinned, his touch solid against Tommy. “We’re still here.”

Tommy let Fundy tend to the wound in his leg, gripping onto Tubbo’s hand tightly as the auburn-haired man stitched him up. He loosened his hold when Tubbo cringed slightly, instead fisting the other boy’s shirt as he yelled through gritted teeth.

Once it was over, he didn’t let go off Tubbo, lightly tugging his friend onto the bed beside him. Will and Fundy left them alone, packing up the medical equipment and leaving Tommy with a ruffle of his hair. “I’m sorry,” Tommy blurted out as soon as the clicking of the door signalled, they were alone.

“I know,” Tubbo sighed, wrapping his arms around himself.

“I broke my promise,” Tommy breathed, voice shaky as he kept his eyes trained on his hands, laying face up on his knees. As he’d walked to what he had thought would be his death, that was the one thing replaying in his mind. He was going to die, and he was going to die with his best friend hating him. But for some reason, he’d been spared, had been allowed to live another day. And Tommy knew what he had to do.

He was terrible at apologising. Sometimes the words physically hurt to force out. But he knew when he’d crossed a line. And every time he shut his eyes; he saw the look Tubbo had given him when he’d made him promise. “I shouldn’t have done that, Tubbo,” he murmured softly, wiping his face with the back of his hands. He was just crying because the wound in his legs had started aching painfully, not because of the way Tubbo smiled at him.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Tubbo agreed, eyes smiling as he wrapped his arms around Tommy, letting the teary boy bury his face in the nook of his neck. “But you’re alive, Tommy. And that’s literally all I care about. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d lost you. You’re my brother.”

*

Dream woke up to an obnoxious knocking sound coming from downstairs. Groaning in annoyance, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, squinting in the early morning light as he took a moment to wake himself properly up.

His feet met the wooden floor with a soft pat, and he jumped from foot to foot to avoid the cold, tugging a sweater on over his head. When his head popped through the neckline, blond hair sticking up in every single direction it possibly could. His eyes widened in surprise when they met groggy blue ones, peeking up at him from under the covers.

“You were awake this whole time?” Dream asked, arching his brow when George giggled, burying himself deeper in the duvet, dark hair sticking out. “Asshole,” Dream sighed, lightly tossing a pillow at George, met only with sleepy laughter before he wandered into the hall. Suppressing a yawn into the crook of his elbow, he took the stairs two at a time, striding towards the door. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Dream called, rolling his eyes when the knocking stopped.

He passed Sap on his way, who was still passed out on their couch, arm sprawled out over the back and face pressed into the pillows as he snored softly. Running a tired hand through his hair, Dream pulled the door open, blinking down when he saw Tommy standing on his doorstep, gripping a box tightly in his fingers.

Dream tilted his head at him, confused for a moment before everything came back to him. He’d shot Tommy a couple of hours ago, ending the war, winning the war. He’d secured his authority and his status. And he hadn’t even needed to kill the boy to do it.

Frowning, he arched a brow at Tommy when he realised the boy was staring up at him with wide eyes, lips parted slightly. “What?” he asked, intending for his voice to come out harsh. It just came out groggy, and at best slightly annoyed.

“Your mask,” Tommy pointed out, blinking repeatedly. Dream bit the inside of his lip, self-consciously running a hand down his face as he leaned against his doorway. He didn’t speak, didn’t really know what to say. He never liked speaking about his face. “How’d you get the scar?” Tommy asked, voice hinting at amusement.

“What did you want to speak about?” Dream asked, already growing bored of this. “Just because I didn’t shoot you in the heart at sundown doesn’t mean I still can’t, Tommy,” he warned, the threat falling off slightly when a yawn broke out, Dream burying his mouth in his hands. Tommy had the audacity to smile.

“Dream, I know what you want from me,” Tommy said, and Dream had to bite back a laugh at how serious the boy was trying to sound as he stood there in his old and tired uniform, limping slightly as he tried to hold himself up high. “I’ll do this for L’Manberg,” Tommy started, holding out the box in his hands towards Dream. The older man just folded his arms, cocking his head in annoyance. The fuck was that even supposed to mean. “I’ll give you both of the discs, if you give us independence. Both of them.”

“Wait,” Dream started, straightening up as he unfolded his arms, glancing from the box in Tommy’s hands to the face of the teenager himself.

“Cat and Mellohi.” Dream gave a huff of amusement, running his tongue over his teeth as he took in the young man standing in front of him. He couldn’t really believe what he was hearing. Tommy was offering up his discs. The things that apparently meant the most to the kid. And he was going to give them up, just like that.

Tommy’s throat bobbed as he waited for a response, Dream’s sleep-deprived brain still trying to catch up with what was happening. He frowned when a twinge of what felt like pride for the youth unfurled in the pit of his stomach. “That is a very, very interesting deal,” Dream admitted, watching as Tommy’s fingers shook around the box. “That is very selfless of you,” he said, unable to stop himself as he met the young boy’s eyes. “Those are your discs.” It wasn’t L’Manberg offering surrender here. No, this was just Tommy, proving how much independence meant to him. Pleading with Dream one last time with the last thing he had to barter with.

“For L’Manberg,” Tommy shrugged, voice calm and firm. Dream smiled. “For Wilbur. For Tubbo. Not for _Eret_.” Dream sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he readied himself for one of Tommy’s rants. “You know what,” Tommy sighed, shaking his head as he looked up to Dream. “There are two discs, Dream. From our war. Between me and you. I’ll give you both my discs.” He emphasised this by shaking the box in front of Dream. “In return you give us, Wilbur’s town, independence.”

“Okay,” Dream nodded, biting his bottom lip. “I will grant L’Manberg independence, with my land still being your mother state. We will not go into your grounds, unless we’re allowed,” he nodded, still not really sure as to how they’d gotten to this point. Tommy had just shown up in his doorstep, box and crooked smile in hand, and Dream had granted them independence.

Maybe he just really wanted to stop fighting now. Wanted to just fuck about with his friends and laugh as George cooked dinner. He couldn’t be bothered trying to squash out L’Manberg anymore. It wasn’t worth it.

“Okay!” Tommy nodded; wide grin painted across his face. “Great, man. This is great.” He laughed as he shoved the box into Dream’s hands, clapping his shoulder before he took a shaky step backwards. “So, this is it,” Tommy whistled, raking a shaking hand through his blond hair.

Dream just nodded, tucking the box under his arm before he took a step back inside, hand on the door. “You can get the fuck off of my doorstep now, Tommy,” Dream said, the words coming out softer than either of them expected. The younger boy blinked up in surprise before he nodded eagerly, shooting Dream an awkward nod before he spun on his heels and took off, limping awkwardly down the wooden path.

Dream dropped the box down on the hallway table before he shuffled into the kitchen, stretching out his arms as he watched Sapnap and George from the doorway. They were bickering, pushing each other as they wrestled over what looked like a wooden spoon.

Sapnap was still in his pyjamas, which were technically George’s pyjamas the Texan had borrowed last night. His white headband wrapped loosely around his wrist, black hair falling in his face in waves. George was the only one out of the three of them that was in proper clothes, loose trousers and a black sweater that Dream was pretty sure was his from the way it hung down over George’s shoulders.

About to join them, Dream paused when the light hit his two friends, lighting their features with a golden bask. Dream realised it was the first time they all looked _clean_ for the first time he could remember. There wasn’t any dirt rubbed into the side of George’s nose, no bleeding cuts decorating Sap’s jaw. Dream blinked down at himself, running his fingers over his own hands as he gave a huff of amusement.

“You’ve not put enough sugar in it, Sapnap. For fuck’s sake.”

“Yes, I have, George,” Sapnap nipped back, imitating George’s accent. The shorter man’s response was just a sharp jab to Sapnap’s side, elbowing him out of the way so he could grab the pot of sugar.

“Hello,” Dream murmured, wrapping his arms around George and nuzzling his head into his neck. “What are we making?”

“Ugh, get off of me Dream,” George sighed as he struggled under the weight of the taller man, trying and failing to push him off. “You’re like a fucking bear.”

“Pancakes,” Sapnap answered as he ignored the other two, crinkling his nose as he stuck his finger into the mixture to taste it. “George, you did _not_ put enough sugar in this.”

George sighed in exasperation and let himself be wrapped up in Dream’s arms with no struggle, rolling his eyes as he watched Sapnap dump half of the sugar pot into the mixture. “Who was at the door?” he asked, turning to meet Dream’s eyes.

“Tommy,” Dream answered honestly, leaning his chin on the top of George’s head. “I granted them independence.” The other two froze, Sapnap blinking at him as he clenched the sugar tightly in his fingers. George held his breath, hands stilling on Dream’s waist.

“Why?” Sapnap finally asked, sounding like he was unsure of which side to be on. If he should start chatting shit about Tommy and L’Manberg or not.

“I was getting bored of fighting,” Dream shrugged before he reached over, dipping his finger into the pot of sugar. “I’d rather just make pancakes from now on.” Sapnap and George murmured in agreement, and the three of them continued on like nothing had happened. Hearts finally feeling weightless as they spilled flour all over the kitchen floor. Their weapons lay hidden under the kitchen table as they instead sheathed wooden spoons. Syrup streaked across their faces and grins decorating their lips instead of blood and screams. Yeah, Dream liked this a lot more than fighting.

Flour was easier to get off of the floor than dried blood, crushed shards of glass and fallen tears.

*

Tommy had never seen his family so proud of him before. And that alone made giving Dream, the stupid bastard, the discs. Will’s surprised gaping, jaw hanging open as he gripped Tommy by the shoulders. Fundy’s laugh laced in amazed disbelief as he clapped his hands together. And Tubbo, as he barrelled straight into Tommy, arms wrapping around him tightly.

Sometimes though, when he walked past Sapnap, and the man would grin sadistically at him and throw him a comment about his leg, Tommy would want to strangle someone. When he met Eret at the port one day, and the man had the audacity to try and speak to him, Tommy had actually almost strangled him. Instead he'd elected for a swift upper-cut. When he was riding back home from visiting Niki and Wilbur and his fingers would instinctively tighten around his horse’s reigns if he saw George in the distance, always smiling, laughing softly. The man was always smiling now, the acts of war completely erased from his face.

When he’d scream for hours, mind trapped in his body as he was forced to relive every single moment of the war in his sleep. Blood crusted in dark, thick eyebrows as soft brown eyes widened in pain. Arrows, raining down thunderously on him as he lifted his arms up, the only defence his own flesh. Tubbo in his arms, arrow sticking out of his chest as his eyes went glassy. Tumbling backwards, the ground swallowing him up as Dream stands over him, ignoring his pleading for help, tossing the bow onto Tommy’s corpse.

But then he always wakes up, shivering and scared, but light streams in through his window, dancing shadows across his skin. And Tommy will push himself out of bed and stretch, normally met with the smell of Tubbo’s cooking in the morning. Tubbo liked to cook. Tommy liked living with Tubbo.

Liked the way his best friend was only ever a knock away. Liked how his best friend would randomly bring him cups of coffee and water and tea throughout the day, without saying anything. Liked how when Tommy agreed to start a garden with Tubbo, his friend’s smile hadn’t left his face all day.

They planted everything they possibly could. Well, it was mostly Tubbo who did the planting, but Tommy helped where he could. He liked how their little brick house was surrounded by a sea of orange tulips and lily of the valleys. It must’ve been mere coincidence that the first flower Tubbo had planted was Tommy’s favourite.

He liked harvesting the pumpkins and the watermelons in the different seasons. Liked how Tubbo would hum while they gardened, somehow even enjoying pulling weeds from the flowerbeds. Liked when they would collect honey from their bees, giving Tubbo a piggyback ride to their house as Tubbo clutched desperately onto Tommy’s shoulders, squealing in glee.

Now the war was over, Tommy and Tubbo could breathe easily, in their little brick house in L’Manberg. They could plant their flowers and laugh and sing and cling to each other when the nightmares got a little too real and a little too loud. They didn’t have to mine for diamonds to make weapons, they didn’t have to stay clear of certain areas, fearful for flying arrows and slashing swords. And even though Tommy's leg never completely healed properly after Dream shot him, he no longer had to sprint until he felt like throwing up just to stay alive. They could ride their horses and smile and visit Wilbur without wearing their uniforms.

Tommy hadn’t ever liked the coat anyway.

Was way too heavy. And when it got damp it always smelled a bit like wet dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg guys so this hurts to say but...final chapter!
> 
> thank you so very much for your absolutely lovely comments (sorry about the last chapter babes had to do it to them)
> 
> I'm considering writing a Star Wars au (dw you wouldn't have to know anything about the plot to the films or anything about sw at all lmao) but I'm scared it'll be too niche and no one will want that lol so we shall see (I just wanna write about a bounty hunter dream and a Jedi fire wielding sap what can I say)
> 
> I've also got a very long one-shot (might make it like three normal chapters instead) coming out soonish so keep tuned for that 
> 
> but for now this is farewell, thank you again for all the support through the comments and the kudos, it's been an absolute pleasure. Poggers
> 
> (also just wanted to say the eboys smp ft Tubbo and Tommy almost made me cry the crossover was insane so I'd recommend watching that)

**Author's Note:**

> hello :) thanks for reading 
> 
> hope you enjoyed!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Wilted Flowers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28123836) by [fueledbypj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fueledbypj/pseuds/fueledbypj)




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